Page 163 of Crazy for this Girl

“How many did I have, Cal?”

“I dunno, Laynee, because you kept your dating life pretty fucking mysterious. Like the time you made up dating a chick.”

“That was to keep you from making a move on me,” I counter, slicing my hand through the air. “I wasn’t about to deal with a fuckboy that lived next door to me.”

“How the hell did I come off as a fuckboy?” He narrows his eyes with as much exasperation that almost matches my own. “I asked for your name, not your bra size and if you wanted to go fuck in the woods. And you did a good ass job of making sure I didn’t make a move on you. You practically skipped over every time I wanted us to talk about our relationship.”

“I think you’re confused,” I rebuke. “If you would’ve known I was interested, were you going to do long distance with me? Would you not have dated in high school? Did you want awkward summers together because I sure as hell didn’t.”

“Yeah,” he claims collectively with confidence. “Actually, I would’ve done all of those things for you. It wouldn’t have been a problem for me.”

My temper flares into another outburst of rage at myself and him.

At myself because what if I would’ve taken a chance and told him how I felt.

And him, for doing the same exact thing, then cranking it up a notch by ditching me.

“You can’t even keep a promise, Cal. Best friends forever, remember? We tell each other everything.”

“Not when the truth would—”

“Oh, shut up, I could handle it. Would it be hard? Yes, but it was better than what you made me go through. Shit, I would’ve gone to church to keep you alive. I would’ve prayed for you every day. And you want me to accept you going through what happened to you all alone?”

“I already told you why,” he leers, his face knotting in rising anger. “Your mental health was more important than mine.”

“Do you love me?”

“Yes.”

“That’s really unfortunate because I hate you right now.” I swing my head back and forth because I can’t stand to even look at him right now. “I really do. So, let’s get to the hard stuff, shall we? Because I think I can manage it now.”

He quirks a brow, like I’m insane. “So, you purposely made yourself mad so you could—”

“How bad is it? I need to know. I have to know that you’re—” I can’t bring myself to say the words as thick and suffocating silence fills between the two of us.

Thankfully, Cal comes to my rescue yet again like the weakling I am.

“Not going to kill you or something?” He’s evading my need to know by asking the question, and I see him internally struggle. I’m such a bitch. “Not now.”

“Cal...I’ll never understand the things you saw and how they affect you now. I have to find it within myself to forgive us both, and—” His palms fasten to my biceps, and he crushes pressure on them.

“Stop,” he warns through his teeth. “Quit throwing blame on yourself. This never would’ve happened if my dad didn’t fuck us up. It would’ve been us. It was always supposed to be us.”

Us.

I frown, remembering something I’ve been wondering for weeks. Something that begins to eat at me, but I quickly slaughter it when it begins to brim into my senses.

“The white roses…who were those for?” Cal averts his eyes, and I feel an unsteadiness settle in my chest. “Girlfriend?”

He sighs then drops his next words of, “You dated, I almost got married, we dodged bullets for a reason.”

My eyes widen at his admission, pure jealousy and rage coursing through every inch of my being. Especially after all this, we talk and I would’ve given you anything crap. “You almost got married?”

“Almost,” he clips out, pulling his slitted greens back to me. “Key word.”

My nostrils flare, and I’m surprised fire isn’t coming out of them yet. “You proposed to someone? Like bought a ring and got down on your knee?”

“And you dated pricks from Duke. Again, they didn’t work out because they weren’t us.”

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