Page 26 of Falling For Us Again

“You can never understand what it was like living here. You could never understand how unhappy I was. How much everything about this place makes me sick."

"You can never understand what it was like to live with a father who once showered me with love and suddenly couldn’t stand the sight of me, whose favorite past time seemed to consist of finding ways to hurt me.”

“You think you know everything because you helped me nurse some bruises? You don’t know anything, so don’t act like you do.”

I stand up abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor as I begin to pace, my anger bubbling.

“I am so sick of you, Dylan.”

“Oh right.” He scoffs. “You’re sick of me? I'm the one at fault, even though you wouldn’t open up to me, no matter how much I tried. I gave you all my love, and you threw it away the one time I couldn’t be there for you.”

“My father had left; I was scared and alone. What was I supposed to do? I needed you more than ever and you weren’t there.”

His voice booms. “So, you decided the thing to do was to screw Paul? Screw my best friend? That’ll show me huh?” Dylan’s breathes heavily, bitterness clouding his eyes as he recalls the painful incident. “You’re something else; I’ll give you that.”

“You don't know what really happened.” I shake my head, my chest twisting painfully.

“Well, I know you screwed my best friend and left without so much as a word before I could come back.” He laughs, but there was no trace of humor in his voice. “And yet, I'm the one who didn't care enough about you.”

“I hoped with everything in me that it was a terrible lie, and you'd reach out to me and explain. I desperately clung to that hope for weeks, months, and it slowly morphed into years, and you never did.” he says, his voice tight.

“Do you think it was easy for me to leave?"

"Then why did you?" his voice was a whiplash.

"I had no choice. Leaving was the only thing I felt I could do then," I say, my voice trembling. "Your mother hated me. You hated me. Do you understand what it’s like to feel like my mere presence is ruining your life?”

Dylan runs his hand angrily through his hair. “Jesus Christ, Jenna. Nothing you’re saying makes any sense.”

“She never wanted me in your life. After you left for college, I could see the happiness on her face that we were out of each other’s lives. When she found out that we were still together, she hated me even more. And what did I do except fall in love with her son?”

“You never really understood how it all made me feel. I was dying inside.” My voice cracks, and I turn my back away from him. “I hate being back here. This place makes me sick.”

The room is silent again, my words hanging heavy in the air. The unresolved tension between us is palpable, and I can feel the tears threatening to spill. But I won't let them. Not now.

Dylan walks towards me slowly, his hands gentle on my arm. “Jenna.”

I pull away, my heart pounding.

“Jenna.” He says softly.

“Leave me alone, Dylan.”

He doesn't; instead, he pulls me close, wrapping his arms around me in a tight embrace. The distance between us vanishes, and I am engulfed by the warm, intoxicating scent of sandalwood from his shirt, filling my senses.

I have no more fight left in me, and my eyes flutter shut, giving in to the inevitable. I let myself melt into him, savoring the feel of his strong body pressed against mine.

We stay like that for what feels like an eternity, lost in each other’s arms even as our past hangs unresolved and heavy between us.

When we finally pull away, our eyes meet, and the sexual attraction between rise to the surface. The desire in Dylan’s green eyes is unmistakable, mirroring the fire burning in mine.

My breath hitches as he wraps his arms around my waist, bringing me even closer to him. I barely have time to second guess what is happening before he closes the gap between us in a swift motion, capturing my lips with his own.

The kiss is hard, fierce—devoid of any softness but instead filled with a raw, untamed passion that has been restrained for too long. I kiss him back with equal fervor, putting all my frustrations and longings into the kiss as I wrap my arms around his neck.

His hands roam my body with an urgency, fingers tracing the curves of my waist before settling on my butt, fondling and slapping a palm on it.

“God, Jenna,” he groans.

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