Page 20 of Fake Hearts and Kisses

I’m so fucking stupid.

This is what I do. Every. Single. Time. Witheverything. I come up with a brilliant plan; it goes perfectly, then I fuck it up because I want more. I crave more. I need more.

I knew going into this that Daisy wouldn’t be mine after this weekend, but I pushed and took the small bits she offered, eating it up like I was starving. I had watched her for months,knowing I couldn’t have her, then the second I could get close, I jumped, knowing I would want more than a friendly weekend. Knowing that even though we discussed it beforehand, I would try for more, even though I’d never be what she wanted, no matter what I did. And yet, that stupid small part of my brain hoped she’d want me for more.

More. More. More. I always want more.

This is what landed my ass in jail. This is what has led me to this very miserable moment right now. I want more. More than I can have. More than life wants to give me. Even though I went into this mad plan with Daisy, knowing damn well I couldn’t be with her, even knowing this was temporary. I still want more.

I want tobemore.

I want to be the Blake she thinks walks to work because he wants to, not because it’s part of his parole. The Blake who taught himself how to cook because he enjoyed it and not out of desperation to survive. She deserves the Blake who didn’t sit for months in jail, stole a car, or hacks into fucking banks. She deserves the Blake that buys pretty little charm bracelets with money he earned, not money he stole.

I put my head into my hands, gripping my hair at the scalp. I’m so sick ofpretending. Of being fake.

“Blake?”

I drop my hands to my lap at the sound of her voice, looking up to give her a warm smile. Fake Blake, but this smile is hers. “Good morning,”

She doesn’t smile back, and my heart sinks. “We have to go back today.”

I stand and busy myself with my bag, pretending to check over my items so she can’t see the emptiness her words create written over my face.

Toothpaste.Check.

Socks.Check.

Daisy.No check.

I shove the items around the bag blindly, doing my best to ignore the tightness in my chest. “Do you want me to drive?”

She doesn’t speak right away, and it feels like the knot in my chest twists around my collarbones.

“No,” she says. “I’ll drive.”

I hear the bathroom door close, and I let out a long, heavy breath.

The drive back is going to be fucking torture.

A knock at the door sends my jumbled nerves over the edge, and my entire body jerks, my teeth grinding. I stalk to the door and swing it open too fast.

“Good morning,” Daisy’s mother says. “May I come in?”

I step aside, my thoughts moving in a million different directions, but you’d never know it by how I give her a smile, stepping aside.

“Are you both packed and ready?” Heather asks. She eyes the room and sees my bag on the couch. “Did you enjoy this weekend?”

“It’s been wonderful,” I tell her, the fake Blake smile plastered on my face.

She walks around the room, eyeing me. Her head turns in the direction of the bathroom. Hearing the shower running, her face changes. It loses the happy, motherly expression as she steps close to me, stopping just inches away. Whatever smoothly constructed front she wears falls to the floor, and her eyes bore into me. Her finger runs over my chest, the nail scratching on the fabric, and she stops at my heart, jabbing the manicured nail through the threads. I resist stepping back from her viperous glare.

“If you hurt my daughter, you’ll regret the day you ever laid eyes on her.” Her voice grates over my skin. “You better be everything you say you are.”

She backs away with a sweet smile, like she didn’t just spit venom in my eyes. Heather walks to the door and opens it. “Have a safe drive home.”

# # #

I’m right. The drive is awful. Thankfully, we take a break from the quiet drive a few hours in and stop at the same small diner we visited on the way up here. Daisy has smiled at my jokes, and even laughed a few times, but she isn’t present like she has been for the last two days. I am scared she regrets this. Me.

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