Page 125 of Love Not Qualified

Even if she was laughing, I knew it had a double meaning. I betrayed her trust when we never really got to know each other really well and now she was suggesting she was getting her revenge at me.

Yet she didn’t seem like the type.

I turned my head to her to ask if she was ever going to forgive me, but I spotted a white spot on her lips and without thinking, I brushed it away. She looked at me, her nose brushing mine.

“You had…” I started, but lost my words when her eyes lowered on my lips.

I wasn’t supposed to influence her, but I couldn’t help myself. I snuck my hand behind her ear and when she didn’t protest, I smashed my lips onto hers.

FORTY-EIGHT

HAELYN

An unintentional moan slipped past my lips the moment his mouth covered mine in a hungry wave of need. His fingers clutched at the spot behind my head and I pushed into him, eager for more.

I was kissing Tristan after weeks of battle with myself, finally giving in to something I wanted for so long, but I couldn’t be all in. I couldn’t. Not when the question was still running in my head like an annoying song that I couldn’t get out.

Was it right to give him another chance?

Tristan broke the kiss and I pushed into my elbows to take some distance, but his hand remained behind my ear. His eyes could barely stay open when he watched me.

His jaw twitched. “I feel like I’m losing you forever.” He said it so slowly I thought I imagined it.

My chest tugged. It hurt when he said it out loud because deep down, I knew that restraining myself from what I wanted to do was eventually going to break us apart, but there was something… something in me that didn’t want to give in and forgive him for what he did.

I didn’t know what it was, but I knew it was loud enough to stop me from being happy if I decided to give him anotherchance. I had doubts about who he truly was. If he truly wanted me or I was just hard to get and that excited him.

So I couldn’t lie to him and say he wasn’t going to lose me. Instead, I kept my mouth shut and enjoyed the warmth of his touch.

Wasn’t this wrong? To seek and mourn someone’s warmth but to not be able to forgive them?

“I don’t know what to do anymore, Haelyn. I know enough time passed for you to be only a fling—trust me, I said to myself more than a million times that I would get over you eventually. But I can’t. I can’t forget how you made me a better man, or how you’re present in my mind non-stop. You make me want more and I don’t know if I’ve made myself clear, but I want the real thing with you. I want to be able to call you every day to see how you’re doing, I want you to be the first person to share the good news with, I want to fall asleep with you in my arms, I want to be there when you visit your Mom, I want all the stuff with you,” he breathed out, his chest pushing forward. “It scares the shit out of me, especially when it feels like I can’t do anything to get you back. I’m running out of options and despite what you think, I’m not afraid of trying anymore. I’m afraid that one day, I’ll have nothing else to do and I’ll lose you.”

I sucked in a breath, my eyelids falling over the unshed tears rolling on my under eye. His confession was honest and straightforward, truly everything I wanted to hear from a man.

For the first time after we fell apart, I believed him.

Was I wrong this whole time?

I opened my mouth, but he just got up to his feet, stretching his hand to me. He helped me raise, but then he immediately took his hand away.

Tristan looked to the side of the empty street where raindrops were still pouring from the sky. “You don’t have to say anything.” His tone was flat, distant.

The image of his slack expression reminded me of the person I met when I had the interview. Even then, I was attracted to him and his broodiness. I didn’t like cold men, but there was something about him that lured me in at first sight. Maybe somehow I knew that it was all a well-crafted shield and mask and that underneath was hiding a good person. I wasn’t sure.

Yet the Tristan I was looking at now was as different as it was similar to the one in the past. Now his eyes were dull and wet, with a sentimental distance between us.

I hurt him.

“I’ll get you home,” he said, but didn’t look at me as he spoke. “Is your leg okay?”

I wanted to laugh, but instead, a tear rivered down my left cheek. He looked as broken as ever by my silence and still, he asked me about the leg I didn’t even hit.

Why couldn’t I let go and jump on him right now? Explain to him that I missed him with every fiber of me even if we spent every day together. Why was I so stubborn? Why was I holding back?

Since I was young and saw my mother living in hell, I dreamed about the love they told about in books. I refused to believe it didn’t exist, so I kept imagining the way it was supposed to feel: butterflies, eagerness, and happiness.

And I had that with Josh. I mistook nervousness for butterflies because deep down, I knew he was just using me. I was eager to see him because I was desperate to have someone show me love, even if it was the fake side of it. And I thought I was happy because that was the first version of it I ever felt.

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