Page 24 of Until We Kiss

I’m putting this on him. And it’s not fair.

I need to cry—a messy, embarrassing cry like I’d never do in front of anyone else.

But the tears don’t come. It’s like they’re rotting in me, clogged behind my eyes.

I’m so fucked up.

I’m hurt and I’m angry and I’m just solost. I didn’t realize how lost until today. I didn’t realize what a tiny string I’ve been hanging onto.

And it’s worse without Carter, how he laughs, how he looks at me, how I am with him. I miss just being around?—

“Theo.”

I squeeze my eyes, another sob welling. His voice is so real, like he’s standing right behind me. Like he’s?—

“Bro.” It comes closer this time.

Fuck,no. Please no. He can’t be here. He can’t see me like this.

“Are you okay?”

I jump when his palm clasps my shoulder, my fists sliding down the tile.

Pull your shit together. Act like nothing’s wrong. Act like two bros in the shower together over spring break.

I swipe the heels of my hands at my eyes. I swallow my tears. Then I straighten and turn.

He’s right behind me, the spray of the water wetting his banana shorts, plastering the fabric against his skin.

He kissed her.

My throat closes. I want to fucking cry. I want to give up. I want this feeling to be over.

I drag in an uneven breath. “Hey, man.”

Somehow, I keep my voice from shaking.

His lips part slowly.

Silence.

A waft of steam rises between us, and I don’t know how to deal with this. I don’t know how to look at him.

I need to crawl into the ballsack couch and go to sleep. Forget all of this. Go back to Colorado and… what?

Pretend that you don’t want him. That you’re not thinking about him every single time he passes by your door. That you’re not two seconds away from breaking the fuck down.

Yes, exactly that.

“I’m done with the shower,” I say. “You can finish.”

I go to step around him.

“Did he”—his jaw clenches—“do something to you?”

I freeze.

He knows. Holy shit, he knows.

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