Page 61 of Wreckage

And I knew him. If I didn’t push him, he’d sit there, drowning in his indecision, making up excuses, overanalyzing every second until the opportunity was lost.

Well, I wasn’t going to let it happen. We were in dire straights, and I didn’t know how many moments we had left.

After we settled in that night and had another meager meal of crackers, apple slices, and water, I gave him a pointed look.

I’m going to wash up,” I said, stretching as I stood. I was doing this to give him some time alone with her to tell her how he felt.

Adrian glanced up quickly, his gaze flicking from me to Elena, who was curled up on the raft, book in her lap, completely oblivious.

Good.

If she had noticed how he looked at her and how he had been looking at her since the beginning of this entire nightmare, she might have been just as confused as he was.

Adrian hesitated, clearly uncomfortable, shifting slightly in his seat.

Come on, man. Make a move.

I didn’t say it out loud, but I willed it with every fiber of my being.

He wanted her. I wanted her. And I wanted him to have her, too.

It wasn’t weird. It wasn’t wrong. It was just…right. She was perfect, and he needed to do something about it all sooner rather than later.

Maybe it was the circumstances, the desperation of our situation, but I didn’t think so. I knew upon reflection I’d felt this way for a long time. Pushing the guys at the party was a testament to that.

This felt inevitable.

Something we had both ignored for years, but now that the walls had been stripped away, now that there was nothing left to run from, it had finally caught up to us, caging us on a fucking mountain with no hope for an escape and crammed into a tiny private jet.

It had finally caught upto him. And if he wasn’t going to be brave enough to face it, then I was going to push him straight into the fucking fire.

Elena is that fire.

I took my time in the bathroom, stalling as long as I could, knowing damn well that I had been in there for at least an hour.

It was plenty of time for him to do something. Say anything. Just fucking move in the right direction.

Adrian had no excuse not to do something.

When I finally opened the door and stepped out, there he was.

Still in his same seat. Still reading. Still pretending like nothing had changed.

Elena was still in her spot with her book, completely unaware of how fucking miserable Adrian looked.

I sighed, rubbing a hand down my face.

Fine. I’d just have to make this painfully obvious for him.

I walked straight to Elena and settled beside her, taking my spot like I had every other night.

Then, before she could blink, I pulled her toward me, my hand sliding through her soft hair, which she’d left loose, and kissed her.

She gasped softly against my lips, startled at first, but then she relaxed her fingers gripping my shirt and kissed me back.

I didn’t rush it. I didn’t make it too much. I just let it be what it was. A fucking point.

A statement.

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