Page 33 of A Moment for Us
Delia nods. “Okay.”
“Things for the resort.”
“Things. I get it.”
I run my hands through my hair. “I can stay, if you need me.”
“No. I feel my headache coming back. I’m going to lie down.”
Her head. Fuck. I really am a piece of shit. I step toward her, but she retreats. “You’re pissed at me?”
She plasters on a fake smile. “I’m not. I just want to lie down and process the day. Thanks for driving me home and”—her eyes move to the floor—“that. So thanks for everything.”
“You’re thanking me for sex?” I ask with anger laced in my words.
“Isn’t that what we’re supposed to say? I mean, I’m not sure of the protocol here. You’re clearly upset about the events of tonight, which I’m not jumping for joy about either, but . . .”
“But?”
She throws her hands up. “I don’t know! My head is a mess, and . . . you and me and us and this. It’s like it doesn’t add up. You cared for me, Josh. You sat on that floor and held me as though I was important. Then we get here, and I can’t turn you away. I can’t stop myself from touching you and soaking up any chance I have at this. Then you put a steel wall up around yourself when suddenly something happens, and I’m sorry, but I don’t know how or what the hell to think!”
I take two strides before I hold her in my hands. “I’m just as fucked up about it as you are.”
“How? How are you so fucked up, Josh? Why?”
“Because I don’t want this! I don’t want to care. When I saw you in the bathroom—fucking hell, Delia, all I wanted was to make you better. I do care about you, and that’s the problem!”
She shakes her head. “That doesn’t make sense!”
“I will never love again. I can’t. I literally can’t. There is no way I will let myself hurt you or get involved further than this.”
“I’m not asking for you to love me.”
“Then what are you asking?”
She shoves out of my grip. “I’m asking you to be what you promised. A guy who comes over, hooks up, and then leaves without looking back. I need you to bethatguy, Josh. That way, that when you walk away, I won’t be broken and obsessed with the time you held me. Or the times you kissed me and my heart raced. Be the asshole because I can hate him in a few weeks when this is completely over.”
If that’s what she wants, then that’s what I’ll do. Regardless of the fact that she deserves better than that. She’s not some random girl—not to me. However, I hear what she’s asking, and if that’s what she needs, then I’ll do it.
I grab the sweatshirt of whatever asshole fucked her last, throw it over my head, and walk out the door, hating myself with each step I take.
Chapter 10
Delia
“I’m going to head to Mexico next week and then stay in Florida with your Aunt Lou,” my mother says.
“Nope.”
“Right. And then maybe I’ll paddle around the world in a canoe.”
“Sounds great,” I answer.
“I’m thinking about shaving your head before that, though.”
I nod. “Yup.”
A french fry hits my forehead. “Delia Parker Andrews, are you even listening to me?”
