Page 5 of Lovers Like Us
I take a step towards him. “Why?”
“If I tell youwhy, you’ll want to fix it like you always do, and did you ever contemplate, ever think, that not everything needs to be fixed?” His angered yellow-green eyes burn me. “Let alone byyou.”
I open my mouth, but words stick to the back of mythroat.
“Why are you so upset? You’reMaximoff Hale,” he practically spits out my name. “You can do anything by yourself and thensome.”
I think about Jason again. I think about how I was holding onto Charlie at Harvard like a familiar lifeline. If he wants to bail on college…that’s fine. I can’t trap him, but I just don’t understandwhyhe’s doing this all of asudden.
And yeah, I want ananswer.
Is that so fucking bad of me? “Just tell mewhy—”
He nears, bridging the distance, but not in a good way. “I can’t stand to look at you. To be around you, and I’d rather bathe in peroxide than suffer four years of college with you.” Charlie watches my face contort. “Can’t handle the fact that someone dislikesyou?”
“Oooh,” an audience says, ogling us from the yacht. They push up against the railing and stare down at the wooden dock where I combat mycousin.
“Fuck you.” I glare. Charlie knowsclassmates have hated me. Just not family. I point at him. “You’re just an immature sixteen-year-oldkidwho likes pretending he’s an adult, but you’re one of the most irresponsible, self-involved—” I see his right hook, and I slip left, dodging theblow.
I’m on autopilot, a reflex, and I swingat him. My fist lands with a thump against hisjaw.
Shit.
I raise my hand, not wanting to seriously injure him. I’m more muscular, stronger. Even if he’s an inch taller.“Charlie—”
His narrowed eyes drill into my skull. And he launches another punch. His knuckles smash into mycheekbone.
“Ohhhh!” the audienceclamors.
I wince and shove him back hard. He tries to nail my ribs. I shove himagain.
“Isn’t this what you’re good at?!” he yells. “Hitme!”
I’m wound up, about to snap, and when he comes at me for a third time, I seize his shoulder. I slam a fist into his abs, and he barrels his weight into me. Until we’re on the dock. Wrestling with one another. Spit flying, fists digging, and pulsespounding.
I bust skin on hischeek.
He pummels my already battered ribs. Some kind of hate brews like acid between us, and I can’t end it. I don’t knowhow.
I’m on my back. And right as I turn my head towards him, he launches an uppercut. His knuckles bash my chin and catch my nose—goddammit.
Blood just pours out of my nostrils. Charlie stands off me, and I sit up, cupping my hands to my face. Breathingheavily.
I try to ignore the cacophony from the damn yacht, the “oh shits” and “fuuuucks”.
I rise to one knee, my muscles onfire.
Wanting toscream.
But I look up. Charlie touches the wound on his cheek, his whole body as badly beaten as mine, and he inhales a strong, sharpbreath.
“Don’t do this, Charlie,” I say, voice muffled with my bloodied nose. I don’t want us to be distant. I don’t want to return to what we were when we wereyounger.
Charlie sways, but he catches his balance, then steps closer. Towering. “You want the cold-hearted truth?” His voice is a deep, pained whisper, so only I hear. “I’d be better off if you never evenexisted.”
My eyes burn. A hurt I’ve never felt before plunges through me like twenty knives to my lungs. Worse than any punch orkick.
Charlie turns and leaves for the marina’srestaurant.
