Page 66 of If It Can't Be Us

His kiss becomes more demanding, and I’m uncertain if I’m drunk from the alcohol or him. The room spins, but all I can focus on is him.

We’re lost in the moment, our bodies pressed together, the wall cool against my back. He releases his grip, and my hands move furiously over his body, worshiping his masculinity. My fingers thread through his hair as his hands find my waist, lifting me slightly so that my legs wrap around his hips. He grips my ass, the friction between us almost too much to bear.

I slither my hands back down to his pants and start working the zipper. Just as I’m about to reach in, he sets me down, grabs my hand and pullsaway, his breathing ragged. He rests his forehead against mine, his eyes closed.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, “we should stop.” It sounds like he’s trying to convince himself more than me.

I stand there gasping for breath, my arms wrapped around his neck and tangled in his hair. “Leo,” I whisper.

He doesn’t look up, his forehead resting against mine, eyes fixed on the rise and fall of my chest.

“Leo,” I say a little louder.

He glances up, making eye contact.

“Leo, don’t stop… please,” I say with a desperation that I hate. But I can’t help it; I need him.

His eyes burn into mine, and I can feel the passion that was just there a moment ago. “We can’t. You’re drunk, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Leo,” I whisper, my voice trembling but still strong. I feel so vulnerable, my boobs out on display, practically pleading with him. “Please, don’t treat me like I’m going to break. I’m not that fragile, I’m not going to break.” I whisper again, more raw this time, “I want this.”

“Dammit!” he pounds his fist against the wall, the sound echoing through the room. “Viv,” he says, his voice breaking as I see the turmoil in his eyes, the internal struggle he’s fighting.

His eyes meet mine, filled with a mix of longing and something deeper, something painful. “It’s not you I’m worried about breaking,” he says, his voice rough. “You’re so strong. I just don’t know if I can be the one to give you what you need. And if I fail… if I lose you, I don’t think I could take it.”

Trembling, I stand as tall as I can and look him in the eyes. “Leo… either fuck me, or get the fuck out.” I say boldly, gesturing toward the door.

He slowly backs away, running his hands through his hair. He’s hurt; I know my words just hurt him. But so am I.

As he stumbles for words, picking his shirt off the ground and pulling it over his head, he finally speaks. “Viv, please. Don’t do this. Don’t kickme out, not like this,” he implores, shaking his head, “Please,” he pleads again, “let’s talk first.”

Narrowing my eyes, not daring to blink as moisture fills them, I scowl at him. “I can hardlylookat you right now, let alone talk,” I say, my voice slightly elevated. I pick up his coat, walk toward him, and shove it into his arms. “Now get out!” I shout, pointing to the door.

I don’t bother getting dressed. I stand there, exposed and angry, having let my guard down. For a brief moment, I empathize with that douchebag Bentley. How humiliating it is to be denied when you’ve completely allowed yourself to be vulnerable. On second thought, no, this isn’t like that at all because IknowLeo wants this. Iknowhe has wanted it for a long time, and he kissedme!This is abouthim. So I stand there, half naked and stripped down, arms folded and glaring at him, never losing eye contact. I refuse to let this be okay. I can’t keep playing this cat-and-mouse game, not when it ends like this.

He sighs, his shoulders slumping as if carrying an unbearable weight. “Okay. I’ll go.” Sliding his arms into his coat, the fabric rustling softly in the silent room, he slowly walks toward the door. He looks back one last time, his eyes filled with regret, before opening it and stepping out into the cold night air.

I cry out in agony, shame, and embarrassment. I know he can still hear me, and I don’t care. I begged him, pleaded with him to stay, to be with me, and he denied me. There was so much passion between us, so much chemistry; you can’t fake that. I collapse onto the couch, tears streaming down my face as the reality of the situation hits me.

I sit in silence on the couch, the darkness enveloping me, tears streaming down my cheeks. My heart can’t take this. I’ve been through too much already. This is it. The straw that breaks the camel’s back. I wanted things to be normal after our first kiss, but this… there’s no going back to normal after this. Leo’s mouth and hands were all over me, and I wanted them there. If we try to go back to normal, this will keep happening again and again, and I can’t take it.

The weight of what just happened presses down on me, the longing and rejection mingling with a deep, aching emptiness. I feel hollow, vulnerable, and exposed, a raw nerve laid bare.

I take a deep breath, wiping my tears. I’m not fucked up after all; I was ready to go all the way with him. I just hadn’t met anyone I wanted to do that with until Leo.

But now, I have to protect myself.

Chapter 20

LEO

The next morning

“Leo.” I hear Meredith’s voice, muffled in the distance. I briefly open an eye, just enough to see a blurry outline of a person across the room, then close it again. My memory is a haze, flickering in and out of consciousness as fragmented visions flash through my mind.

“Where’s mum?” seven-year-old Andrew cries, standing in the kitchen with his stuffed monkey and baby blanket.

“She’s gone,” I hear my ten-year-old self say, angrily.

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