Page 72 of Cream and Punishment
twenty-four
“Youkissedhim?”Lexasked, her eyebrows shooting up to her hairline. “That’s adorableandweird.”
“Toldyou my lasagna would work.” Hattie snickered.
“Shh.” Kris ignored Hattie and swatted at Lex. “You can think about that later. Something clearly happened after that. Look at her.”
I frowned, rummaging through my freezer for my last tub of ice cream. There may or may not have been three untouched tubs after the kissing fiasco last night. I’ll never say. “You know, you guys didn’t have to come all the way here.”
“Oh, poppycock.” Hattie dismissed with a flick of her wrist, ignoring the curious glances we sent her. “Of course we had to come. You haven’t missed a girls night since you got food poisoning last year.”
“Yeah, dude,” Annie cut in, “what’s going on? Your couch is broken, you’re still in pajamas, you have chocolate on your face, and your only explanation was that you kissed Max?”
After the-kiss-that-shall-not-be-discussed, the last thing I wanted was to socialize. I’d called out sick to work and girls’ night, but instead of wishing I felt better or offering to bring chicken noodle soup, my friends had all decided to crash my apartment and bombard me with questions.
I sighed in resignation, ripping open my tub of peanut butter brownie ice cream. “I knew he didn’t want to date anyone, but I kissed him anyway, andIthought it was the best kiss of my life, butheregretted it immediately and now he’s gone, and he hates me and he’s never coming back.”
They exchanged a look, which I would’ve asked them about, if I’d had the energy or desire to care. Which I didn’t.
“Walk us through what happened,” Kris ordered. “From the top.”
I’d rather regurgitate a brick and probably would’ve chosen that option instead if anyone else had asked. But these were my friends, so I obliged. Every excruciating detail leading up to and after the kiss. By the time I finished, we all had a bowl of half-eaten peanut butter brownie in our hands.
“I’m gonna kick his butt halfway to Taiwan,” Lex muttered, murder glinting in her green eyes.
“Please don’t beat him up,” I murmured, stuffing another bite in my mouth. “It’s not his fault I’m an idiot. Or that I pressured him into kissing me when I knew he didn’t want it.”
“Dude, you are acting like you came on to him.” Annie made a low, irritated sound in her throat, eerily similar to a growl. With her leather jacket and line of piercings up her ears shining in the light, she looked like a modern-day angel of vengeance. An angel of vengeance with ice cream. “Did you or did you not get his consent?”
I shrank down as if I could disappear into myself. “I did.”
“And when he stopped, you didn’t throw yourself at him or try to pressure him to keep going, did you?”
I shrank down even more. “No.”
“Then I don’t see a problem.” She reconsidered with a pinch of her lips. “Besides the fact that he’s a colossal moron for leaving like that without any more explanation. You’re better off without him.”
Guilt festered behind my heart. Maybe I hadn’t thrown myself at him like I’d catastrophized myself into believing, but he wasn’t the villain Annie thought he was.
“He’d already told me his stance on relationships, and I still asked him to break down his fence for me to cross.” I swallowed hard, my throat stinging. “This is exactly what I deserve.”
“For what?” Annie challenged. “Sharing a kiss between two consenting adults?”
I shrugged. “And everything else I’ve put him through.”
“None of which has been your fault.” Annie balanced on the arm of the couch, her expression thunderous. “He made his own choices. Sometimes things justhappen, and it sucks.”
I snorted. Sure, things happen. But getting him stuck in an elevator, having him carry me while I was hurt, running into him countless times, and playing a role in his last breakup—he’d suffered enough because of me. It was probably best for him that he got as far away from me as possible.
“You do this, you know,” Lex said softly. “Blame yourself for everything.”
I opened my mouth to protest, only to snap it shut as her words sank in. I didn’t blame myself foreverything. Just the stuff that was my fault.
“Why do you insist on taking the blame for everything? Does it feel good to think you had control over everything in the first place? Is it some form of penance—” Lex’s face went slack, the color draining from her cheeks. “How” —she cleared her throat when her voice cracked— “how long have you been blaming yourself, Dekker?”
I shrugged again, focusing intently on my melting ice cream. Did I really blame myself for things that weren’t my fault? She seemed to think so. And, based on the nods from the rest of the girls, they agreed. But if that was the case—if what I blamed myself for wasn’t always my fault—then why did I do it? Was it about control? Did I find comfort in the illusion that, if it was my fault, I had the power to change the outcome in the future? Or was it something else?
“So, Dominick’s passing” —Lex paused, the apartment around her quiet as a graveyard— “do you blame yourself for that, too?”
