Page 193 of Blood & Betrayals

Connor’s lips pull into a small, shy smile. “You’re a natural genius. I need to work on it.”

“Hardly, big guy,” I say, rolling my eyes.

Connor scoffs. “Yeah? What did you get on your last paper?”

“I…” I consider the big, redAstamped on my last term paper for Realms and decide not to give him the satisfaction. “Well, I don’t remember.”

“Liar.” Connor laughs. “It was anA. I remember you showing me last week. And how long did that paper take you to write?”

I cross my arms and tap my foot. “Well. I don’t know. I didn’t fucking time myself.”

Connor smirks at me. “You see what I mean?”

Irritation prickles beneath my skin. It’s like he’s putting all the blame on me for us being a distraction.

“Whatever, it’s not like I force you to fuck me,” I growl. The second the words leave my lips, guilt sinks its claws into me, butthere is also a delicious relief of the safety I feel from the barrier that sentence has created.

Connor recoils as if I struck him. “I’m sorry? The fuck does that mean?”

“You make it sound like some sordid ordeal that Iforceyou to go through.” What is coming out of my mouth? Fuck.

“What? You’re not serious?” Connor asks, his face a blend of confusion, hurt, and anger.

I glare at him, mired in my stubbornness and my own hurt, my self-made hurt.

“How in the world is saying you’re naturally intelligent and don’t have to study as much as me, make it sound like that?” Connor asks, bewildered.

“It just did, Con,” I say, throwing my hands up. The words taste like venom on my tongue, but I can’t deny the second wave of comfort they bring. The familiar sense of safety wraps around me like a blanket.

The pain and confusion in Connor’s eyes morph into anger, and he shakes his head. “Okay, cool. I’m going home.”

He’s leaving. He’s abandoning me. Just like I knew he would. I want to scream, shake myself, and cause myself pain. While this pain is familiar, there is no easing the emotional agony of him walking away from me. Now that I have had a taste of what it means to be connected to someone, I don’t know who I am without it.

“Fine.” I look away and wrap my arms tightly around my torso. I feel like I’ve been stabbed in the chest, but I am so acutely aware that I am the aggressor.

“Saying it’s a sordid ordeal is pretty fucked up,” Connor says, turning to leave.

A war rages within me. Half of me is clawing to reach out to him, to apologize and hold him. That part wants me to cling to him and force him never to let me go. But the other half, thefamiliar half, croons a melancholy tune. The song of loneliness, but more importantly, the song of safety. There is solace in being the only person who can break your own heart.

I stand there until he is out of sight. My two halves are still waging an inner war, battling so fiercely that I am stuck in this emotional limbo. I force my feet to move, not in the direction Connor went but toward the gym. I need to work this off, pushing myself until I can find my equilibrium again.

Max says something to me as I walk by, but I head straight to the treadmill and climb on, setting it to the fastest speed. My body groans at the rude shove into movement, but I embrace it, waiting for the fog of feeling to lift.

My head spins with his words, my words, and the look of hurt on his face. Then there are the words Alice said to me. None of them were lies but such hideous truths.

Failure. I’m a failure. I have loved two people in my life, and I’ve hurt them both with my inability to love. I should have known I was incapable and never opened myself up to it. Now, not only do I have to remember how to live without love, but I’ll also have to live with the guilt of scarring these two people with my sharp edges.

A tear slides down my cheek. Fuck, is this going to happen all the time now? I miss when I never used to cry. I miss when I never used to feel.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Max running on the treadmill beside me. I’ve never seen him run before, but he’s keeping pace beside me. I continue to push myself, feeling another tear fall. My lungs burn, and it’s not until I feel like my legs are going to give out that I stop. I slam my hand down on the button, and when the belt stops, I bend, bracing my hands on my thighs as I try to catch my breath.

Max steps off his treadmill and walks over to me, holding out a bottle of water. I take a deep drink, gulping down oxygen andwater. Max wipes his face off on a towel. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this sweaty. Clearly, he’s not run that fast or that much for a while. I hand him his water back.

Max takes a long drink. “No golden boy?”

“No,” I say, looking away, but I can still feel Max’s eyes on me. “He can do better.” It’s funny how certain truths slip out to certain people. Like instinctively, my brain knows who can handle which fucked up parts of me.

Max snorts. “Yeah, I don’t think he’d agree. Though, what do I know? I never thought the great Connor Morningstar could experience such a mundane emotion like jealousy.”

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