Page 94 of The First Time

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"About making me... about what we did or about leaving after?"

"We can't do this."

No. That's not an explanation. "Fuck you."

He says nothing.

"You didn't even wait for me to get dressed before you left." I pull the door open. "I..." I don't want him to leave. I want him to stay. I want him to be mine. But that isn't happening, and I hate him for leaving.

I hate the way I feel right now.

How could he do that?

I trusted him.

"You don't want to talk for a while." I step inside. "We're not talking. You got what you wanted."

He doesn't even fight me.

He just leaves.

I hate him for leaving.

I hate that I still fuck myself thinking about him.

* * *

Studyingfor finals is even more of a grind without my nightly chats with Kit. I'm not alone. Mal keeps me company when I need it, and leaves me alone to study when I need that. I love my brother, but it's not the same.

I hate not talking to Kit.

I hate how much I hate it.

I hate that I pull out my cell phone after every final, ready to text him. It's a reflex. I can't fight it.

After my last final, I get as far as tapping the messageI'm done. Let's celebratebefore I remember we aren't talking. Then I slide my phone into my pocket, drag my heels to my car, and drive home.

By the time I'm parked in front of our house, I'm ready to collapse.

But I can't do that.

Kit is sitting on our stoop. He looks as yummy as ever in jeans, motorcycle boots, and a black t-shirt. His leather jacket is laid out on the ground to his right. A takeout bag is to his left.

Fuck, I want to hold him, kiss him, mount him.

I hug my sweater instead.

He grabs the takeout bag and pushes himself to his feet. "Hey."

"Hey." There's no anger in my voice. Only hurt. But he's hurt too. His eyes are just as heavy with pain as mine are.

I don't forgive him.

But I'm still so fucking happy to see him.

Please hug me and kiss me and tell me we're done fighting.

Tell me you're done running off.

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