Page 53 of Finding Delaware

I stammer, completely flabbergasted, because that’s just ridiculous. Taylor has done nothing but make my life hell for years. He’s hurt me, not just emotionally but physically. His fist has connected with my face more times than I can count. I may not know much about love, but I know what it looked like for my parents, and you don’t do those sorts of things to someone you love. Right?

Royce grins. “I can see how thrilled you are about that revelation.”

No, actually, I feel like I’m going to be sick. Because there’s no way in hell Taylor fucking Tottman could love anything else other than himself and his bike. That’s just who he is.

“He’s a narcissistic asshole who uses people,” I mutter, wishing I had another drink. “I seriously doubt he can love anyone.”

“We all feel it in our own ways.” He tilts his head, studying me, and I drop my gaze because I’m worried about what he’ll see. The room starts to feel too hot, too crowded, too many bodies pressed together. Suddenly, I feel adrift, like I’ve been capsized in a sea of strangers, and they’re all watching me drown. I can’t breathe.

“Hey, hey.” Royce cups my face, his brows furrowed as he searches my eyes. After a long moment, his forehead smooths out, and he nods slowly. “Ah, I see. You love him, too.”

“No.” I nearly shout the word, pulling back from his touch with a shaky breath. “I do not love Taylor. I hate him.”

Because I do. I fucking hate him for all the shit he’s done to me. For the near-constant state of panic I’ve been in, even if it was my mother’s death that started it. His antics sure as hell didn’t help. I hate his stupid fucking smirk, and his snarky comments, and the way I can’t tell what color his eyes actually are. Hate his ridiculous shirts and angry music, that crooked incisor that only shows when he genuinely smiles, and the messy state of his hair. The way he made me crave him just to fuck with my head.

“I hate him,” I repeat adamantly, even if it comes out weak.

Royce smiles sadly. “I believe that, too.”

The music switches up, slowing to something rhythmically sweet, and it feels like the floor is shifting beneath me. My skin feels flushed, the wall of bodies beginning to close in. I need to escape.

“Do you want to dance?” I ask him suddenly, nodding at the curtain covering the stage, and he flashes me a warm smile.

“Love to.”

We agree to part ways for a few, so that he can head up behind the curtain first and then I’d follow. When I meet him back there five minutes later, however, I find him with his shoulders slumped, rubbing the back of his head. Looking uncertain. He straightens when he sees me and smiles his usual big grin, but there’s less light behind it. And it kills me that I did that to him.

As he holds out his hand, I feel a shift between us when I take it. See the understanding in his eyes. This is goodbye.

“Royce...”

“It’s okay.” His hands clasp behind my neck, tangling with my curls while my arms wrap around his waist. “Let’s just have tonight. Everything else can wait until tomorrow.”

But why do I feel like there won’t be one?

We slowly dance without speaking, surrounded by dust and band equipment. ‘Lost In Yesterday’ by Tame Impala filters in through the speakers, low and melodic. It’s dark back here, comfortable. My chin falls to the top of his head as I finally relax, feeling like I can breathe again.

“Do you want him?” He asks quietly, breaking our silence after a while, and I stiffen, knowing who he’s asking about.

I want to sayhell no, I don’t.In fact, my lips part to say the words. But they don’t come. Because the truth is that I’ve wanted Taylor since the eighth grade. Even after everything. There’s something twisted about the way I yearned for his attention, even if the attention I got was all bruises and closed fists. How I avoided him, knowing he’d seek me out because I wanted the fucking chase. I just got good at lying to myself about it.

“I don’t know.” I feel myself shrug. “Maybe. Even if I did, it wouldn’t matter. Nothing can come from it. There’s too much...history. Too much toxicity.”

Plus, there’s the little fact that he can’t stand being touched by me. So, how would that work?

“I think you two should talk it out.”

A dry snort leaves my throat. “Yeah, right. Conversations with us usually end in bloodshed.”

Or with his lips against mine as we writhe against each other, followed by a fallout.

There’s no middle ground between us, even with my failed attempt at making the backyard track into some sort of neutral ‘Delaware’ like an idiot.

Royce’s chest vibrates as he laughs. “What did you expect when you fell for your bully? Who also happens to be your stepbrother.”

“I didn’t—” I blow a curl out of my eyes, sighing. “I don’t think I’ve ‘fallen’ for him. It’s more like...infatuated.” He pulls back to look up at me, unconvinced, and I smile crookedly. “Verystronglyinfatuated.”

Royce shakes his head with atskbefore pulling my forehead down to his. “If you’re this stubborn admitting your feelings, I think I’m dodging a bullet.”

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