Page 85 of Getting It Twisted

“And nothing I say can ever make it right. That’s why I’m giving you a choice.”

“A choice?” My pulse quickens. I don’t like the sound of this, not at all.

“I can’t stand it if you’re hurting yourself by being with me. Maybe we can’t be together in a healthy way. Maybe it’s better if we’re apart.”

“What?” I rip my hands away from him and shoot to my feet. “Fuck no! Look.” I point between us. “You’re my best friend. You’re the only one who’s ever evenlikedme. You think I’d throw that away just because you did what all guys do when they have me naked in bed?”

“I wanted to be different from them. I ruined it.”

“Maybe you did, but fuck, Daniel, what’s done is done! You were drunk, same as me, and I hurt you too. We hurt each other. I won’t let you throw me out just because of your messed-up guilt and savior complex, okay? I’ve been with men who hurt me, who hurt me badly, and I know the difference. You’re not them. You’re good to me. You’re the only good thing in my life. If you make me leave you, you’ll hurt me more than those sadistic motherfuckers ever did. I’m lost without you. There’s nothing out there for me. Only you. Don’t you dare take that away from me.”

He hesitates.

“Okay?” I say sternly.

“Okay,” he replies.

I get dressed and walk downstairs, but when I reach the kitchen doorway, I stop dead in my tracks. It’s not April who’s making breakfast, as I hoped and expected.

It’s George. In baggy gray sweatpants and a T-shirt, he’s flipping eggs by the stove.

He glances at me over his shoulder. “Oh, you’re up. Where’s Daniel?”

I plop myself onto the kitchen counter next to him. “Shower.”

Without a word, George prepares a plate of toast with sliced tomatoes, ham, and fried eggs. It smells fucking incredible. I bet the excitement shows on my face when he hands it to me.

“Here. You’re skin and bones. Daniel not feeding you enough?”

I smirk and raise my brows. “Oh, he feeds me plenty.”

George sends me a look. “Don’t start.”

He prepares his own plate and sits down by the kitchen table. I stay on the counter, swinging my legs and pulling my toast apart as I eat, sprinkling crumbs all over myself and the floor.

“So.” George chews his last piece of toast and brushes his hands together. “I’ll allow you to move in for now, just until you and Daniel find another place.”

“I don’t need any charity.”

“Oh, this isn’t charity; you’ll pay for it.”

“But I won’t even take up any space! I’ll just sleep in Daniel’s room.” I pick a slice of ham off the toast and dangle it into my mouth. “You won’t even know I’m here.”

George chuckles. “I highly doubt that.”

The rest of the meal passes in silence, with George reading the news on his phone and me sipping OJ. He doesn’t even look up when I start picking crumbs off my plate, rolling them between my fingers and flicking them to the floor.

Well, then. This isn’t nearly as awkward as I thought it would be. It’s not like I’ll stick around here forever though.

I push myself to my feet and saunter into the hallway.

“Going out?” George asks.

“Just for a smoke.”

“Take this, it’s freezing outside.” He hands me a thick woolen coat with intricate stitched patterns. Looks like something a grandma would wear, but I refrain from making the comment.

As I get outside and inhale the frigid morning air, I wonder at my hesitation to quip back at George. It’s not as if I’ve suddenlystarted to like the guy. He’s still the same asshole he’s always been, with the same asshole father. I want this thing with Daniel to work out, though, and I suppose that overrides my desire to piss off George. Not that I’ll be some angel about it. On the other hand, when am I ever?

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