Page 48 of Something So Strong

My hand moves from his hair to cup the back of his head.

His lips are softer than I imagined, but perfect all the same.

Innocent.

Full of naivete, and that’s the problem.

I release his head and trace my fingers down his neck and to his chest. “I guess you lost the game.”

“I don’t mind losing sometimes,” he smiles.

“Fuck.” I push my forehead into his shoulder. “I wanna come in so badly.”

“What’s stopping you?”

“I don’t do sleepovers, remember?”

“You don’t have to stay.”

I step back, and my body is instantly cold. I run my hands through my hair in frustration because my heart is overpowering my dick for the first time in my life. “But I’ll want to. And I know you’ll just look at me with those sexy fucking eyes and I’ll regret it forever.”

“You’ll regret it if we hook up?”

“Fuck no!” I’ll regret dulling your spirit. “Look, I’m sorry, Jesse. It doesn’t matter how much I wanna be in your room. In your bed.” I step backward until my heels hit my door. “I don’t think I could handle it if you—”

“If I what?” He takes a step towards me.

“Please don’t. If you come any closer, I’ll wanna kiss you again.”

“So you don’t actually like me?” His face tells me all the pain his words can’t express.

“No. I really fucking do. That’s why—”

“That’s good. Isn’t it? I like you too. If you don’t wanna come to my room, we can talk in yours.”

Fear drenches me like a bucket of pig’s blood, and everything bad I know that’s happened in those walls flashes before my eyes. Things he can’t know. Things he can’t see. I’d rather him hate me than know the truth. Or worse—wake up with his own bruises.

“Goodnight, Jesse,” my voice shakes as I reach for the doorknob. “Sleep well.”

The shitty green and brown shag carpet that’s been here since the house was built is itchy against my skin. And I’m not sure if I’d have been better off spending the night in a squalid heap at the park instead of collapsing at the foot of my bed.

They left me for dead.

Maybe I’d be better off with my skull stomped into the gravel.

They’d get their wish, and I’d get some peace.

A break from the torture.

The dread of what’s to come.

Of wondering how the fuck I’m going to move from here.

Every breath I take is labored, like there’s an elephant on my chest.

With every pump of my blood, searing agony stabs at my side, my knees, my face, my hands.

I need to move…

---