Page 21 of Chasing Wild Heart

“Go home,” she repeats, pushing the apartment door open and barreling through.

"Why? Let's talk about this." I follow inside, watching her dump her bags by the table and shrugging out of her coat.

"I honestly don't have the energy or the bandwidth to argue with you right now, Dash."

“But this is what we do, Juni,” I explain desperately, ignoring the sudden sense of fear pounding inside me. “We argue. We push each other’s buttons, and then we fuck each other’s brains out.”

“But this is different,” she explains with a tired sigh. “This isn’t an argument; this is a legitimate fight. You hurt me, Dash. Yes, everything you said to your mom is true, but it’s the way you said it. It was demeaning and cruel. I’m not a toy.”

Fuck.I recoil in disbelief because she’s one hundred percent right. What I said didn’t hold an ounce of truth, but I used the words anyway to derail my mom’s idealistic grandeur of love.

Have I always been this self centered?

Have I always spouted random shit just to protect myself?

Have I always believed fools who dream about romantic notions and fairytale endings are morons?

Am I a true asshole?

One simple word painfully answers all those questions.

But the most important question that steals my attention doesn’t have an answer. How do I undo the hurt and chaos?

Begging for forgiveness doesn’t seem enough. Endlessly telling her she’s beautiful and special seems hollow, even if the sentiment is genuine. All the words in the world don’t seem to be enough.

“Junie,” I croak, realizing the extent of my damage, and turn toward the apartment door. “I’m so sorry.”

The shine in her eyes pierces my heart, staking it to remain forever huddled in the depth of my toes.

She nods sadly. “Me too.”

I’maliar.Abig fat liar.

Of course, I want more.

Of course, I like him. Really like him. I might even be in love with him, but I’m nowhere ready to confront that truth.

Why does amazing sex create a protective bubble of happiness and safety that I never want to leave? Even when I'm having a bad day, everything seems a little better when I see him.

God, I'm a fucking idiot.

I should’ve known those two weeks were too good to be true. Too good to lead to anything better. My guard dropped somewhere along with my panties any time Dash took me to the highest of heavens. I'm childishly blaming him for bursting the happiness bubble because it's ten times easier than telling him the truth.

I should've kept my panties on and talked to him about my feelings. Like a mature adult. Admit I wanted the good time to turn into something deeper. Something special.

But, like the chickenshit that I am, I waited for him to make the first move. To profess his all-consuming love for me. The tinyfire escape outside my apartment is simply waiting for someone to scale it in a dramatic declaration of love.

Would I feel less sad if I took the chance? If I bared my soul only to have him reject me?

"Stop thinking," Tabby mutters, knocking her bony elbow into my arm. "You know he's a moron."

"I know," I grumble, slowing our pace into a walk and breathing in the chill November air.

The cool weather with gray skies is perfect for running. Well, for me at least. Tabby has been complaining about "freezing her tits off" ever since she stepped off the bus at our latest invitational. I was more than ready to stretch my legs after huddling in the back seats with the girls. And continue to avoid Dash, who looks like complete shit, according to Eden's five-second assessment.

After dumping our stuff at the team camp site, Tabby and I paired off to familiarize ourselves with the race route set on a swanky golf course. I didn't trust myself to stick around and check if Dash looked as miserable as I've felt over the past two days.

But I didn't proof because he sounded awful in his series of apologetic texts and voicemail messages. Part of me wanted to reply, but not knowing what to say always stopped me. Because what happens after I accept his apology? Would that be a convenient time to admit my feelings? Would we go back to fun-naked time?

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