Page 94 of The Chemistry of Us

It was a nice utopia-like existence that wouldn’t last past tonight.

But maybe that was what we needed—a moment to see what would have happened had we been honest, had we not walked away from each other, had we been more mature.

Regret slapped me across the face as we walked out of the arcade.

I could have had years of this.

I could have fought harder.

I could have explained to her why I was upset instead of getting drunk and hurting her the way she hurt me.

I could have.

Should have.

And now? Can’t.

The rain had stopped.

And our Uber decided to arrive early. Yay, one star, you prick. I didn’t want the night to end but end it did as we both got in the car and shared our candy.

She was yawning and half asleep by the time we got back to the house. I told myself I was holding her hand because she was tired, but really, it was for me. I wanted to hold her hand all the way to the door because I knew the moment I dropped it, the closure we so desperately needed would end. The ceasefire wouldn’t even matter anymore. We were closing the door. Our fight against each other was gone. I apologized.

And now? Just roommates.

No more war.

No more arguing.

Just existing.

How sad.

We walked into the house in silence. Brady was already in bed. Dishes were in the sink, and the lights were turned low.

“Thank you.” Tru held up the bag. “For tonight.”

I nodded and leaned in. Technically, I still had half of a kiss left, so I chose to use it on her forehead, not trusting myself totouch her mouth again and try for more. It would take me a while to get her out of my head and heart.

Because I was starting to realize I never did in the first place. I just tried to forget her, but you couldn’t forget a part of your soul. They were written on your skin. You might not be able to see it, but you felt the scars, and every single time you were with them, the wounds reopened, begging to be acknowledged.

Her eyes darted to my mouth before she nodded her head and made her way up the stairs. I waited until I heard the shower start, and then I followed. I walked into my room, stripped down to my briefs, and crawled into bed. The lights were still on, but I was too lazy to turn them off.

I stared up at the ceiling and finally exhaled.

“It’s better this way,” I said out loud in an effort to convince myself.

A knock sounded on my door.

I leaned up on my elbows. “It’s open.”

Tru walked in, hair wet, wearing black shorts, a white tank, and no bra. What? Was her plan to torture me further? “Hey.”

“What’s up?” In my head, it sounded casual, but out loud, it sounded like I was yelling a greeting at her like an idiot. I even said it so fast that it sounded like wassup.

Tru walked over to my bed and sat down on the edge of it. “I never blamed you for what happened between our parents. I was just angry that you slept with me and then just left, got drunk, and announced to the world that I was your summer fling. It hurt. No, it more than hurt. I loved you. You betrayed me—and in front of people—so I just snapped, but I should have at least waited until you were sober to ask what was really going on. I’m sure you felt messed up after finding out I knew about them but didn’t say anything?—”

“I’m going to stop you right there.” I held up my hand and moved to a sitting position. “I gave you so many chances that night when we had sex to tell me everything.”

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