Page 77 of Things I Wish I Said
“Don’t say that.” My face hardens to stone. “Don’t fucking say that. It’s not true.”
She sighs like the effort of arguing with me exhausts her. “Itistrue. You’re just too nice to say it.”
Too nice?
I almost laugh.
My thoughts when I kissed her earlier weren’t nice; they were feral.
“Not everything is about the physical, Sinclair. You know that right?”
She stares straight ahead, her throat bobbing. “I’m not fishing for compliments.”
My hands clench in my lap with the need to shake her, to make her see what I do. “You know what I see?” A beat of silence passes before she looks at me, her expression wary. “I see someone who’s so strong, it intimidates me. You’re the kind of person who doesn’t give up without a fight. You stood up to a bully tonight to protect a fucking stranger, regardless of the consequences.”
“I hardly—”
“I see a girl who does whatever she can to ease the worry of others and make life just a little easier, even if it means sacrificing what she wants and eating nothing but salad if it gives them peace,” I say, interrupting her. “I see a woman with a wicked sense of humor. A girl who speaks her mind, who’s not afraid of the truth. Someone who is beautiful.” Her eyes widen. “Yeah, Sinclair, like it or not, you’re fucking beautiful, and the fact you don’t even know it makes you even more desirable, and no, I’m not just talking about on the inside. Even cancer can’t change that.”
“Grayson—”
“And you’re brave, too. Ry, you’re so fucking brave.”
“I’m not brave,” she chokes out. “I don’t have a choice,”she argues.
“Everyone has a choice. Yet here you are. And instead of hiding in your room or lying in bed all day feeling sorry for yourself, you’re out with me, playing beer pong and dancing and making friends with people you didn’t even know a day ago.”
She turns away from me as if she doesn’t want to believe any of the things I’m saying, and it hurts like a fucking dagger to the chest because I wouldn’t lie to her. Not about this.
“And don’t even get me started on your body,” I say.
Ry groans and covers her face with her hands. “Stop. You’re just saying that.”
When she drops her hands and turns to me, I slowly skim my gaze over her body and back, allowing the flush of desire that accompanies my perusal to play over my face.
“Face it, Sinclair, you’re a fucking baddie.”
She stares at me for a moment, as if she’s reading the truth in my eyes. “I don’t know about all that,” she says, breathless.
“I do.”
And I want to touch her again so badly my fingers ache. I could show her exactly how attractive I think she is.
But I won’t. Not when I stand the chance of hurting her.
I clear my throat, hoping to clear my thoughts.
“Did you at least have any fun tonight?” I ask, changing the subject.
“I did. Actually, it was probably the most fun I’ve had in a while.”
I stare at the steering wheel before glancing over at her. “Even though I ditched you?”
Her smile falters, her gaze searching mine. I expect her to ask me about it. Maybe I gave her the opening so she could, so I could apologize once more for being an ass in the hope we can forget about it. Strike it from the record.
“Where’d you go?” she asks.
“Out front. I needed a smoke.”
