Page 39 of Rectify

“You deserve it.”

“That’s irrelevant.” My voice gets shaky. “It was so long ago. Ishouldbe over it, and for whatever reason, I’m not, isn't your problem.” I pull away from him and slide my fingers underneath my eyes ensuring I interrupt the potential emotional outburst. “Guys use girls for sex all the time, I’m not the first or the last person it’ll ever happen to.”

“Sit down with me,” he orders, distracting me from the conversation. He hooks his fingers into mine and guides me to the floor.

Perplexed, I raise an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t want us to stand for this conversation, and I don’t trust myself with you, on any piece of furniture.”

“So, we’re just going to sit on the floor?”

“Got any better ideas?”

I roll my eyes and do as he asks. We each sit on one side of the frame, facing one another, our legs splayed out horizontally in the opposite direction. It’s a little more casual, lightening the heavy mood this conversation seems to draw out.

“I’m not sorry it happened,” he says, starting the discussion back up again. “It may have started and ended as a game, but everything in between was real.”

“What changed?” I ask, certain I don’t want to know the answer.

“It wasn’t so black and white,” he offers as somewhat of a defence for his actions. “There was no other option for me.”

“Sorry, what?” I exclaim. “You’re telling me, there was no other option but for you to hurt me.”

“Sasha.” He places a hand on my shin, and I shake it off. “It wasn’t like that. There were other factors involved.”

“Of course there were,” I shout, throwing my arms up in the air, flames of fury bursting on my cheeks. “It was never about you and me. I should’ve never forgotten the reason we teamed up in the first place.” As if the universe scheduled this to be the theme of my life, I huff in defeat. “It was always going to be about Jagger and Hendrix.”

Their names have never riled me up as much as they have in the last few weeks. My choice to put their happiness over mine, proving to be the most costly decision I've ever made.

“You knew that from the beginning.” He raises his voice defensively. “And don't act like you didn't use me for your own motives.”

“I didn’t use you to piss them off,” I correct. “I used you to distractme.”

“And I did that,” he smirks arrogantly. “I did thatfuckingwell.”

“Fuck you,” I spit out.

“Don’t,” he warns, body stiff, his jaw clenching.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t push me to remind you just how much youlovedmy distractions.”

I bite back my retort, because anything I say is going to have me straddling him, and him angry fucking me. But since we’re halfway through this conversation, I’m now determined to get to the end of it.

“Cat got your tongue, Pretty Girl?” he teases, acknowledging my restraint.

“Why don’t you finish what you started, so you can go home.”

Unexpectedly, his eyes twinkle at my sass, undeterred by my response. “Fine. I want to know what hurt you the most?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s not like you felt anything for me.”

The statement comes out as a challenge, one I won’t accept. He’s trying to pull apart our time together, peeling off each layer and revealing the very thing I hoped to never have to admit.

I know we both felt something for one another. Whether it was young infatuation, curiosity, or the start of something that could’ve been; it was there. But considering our circumstances, it was deservedly left to wilt before it could ever begin to flourish.

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