Page 90 of Faking Forever 1
Even if he thought he caught us in some act, what we have is more real than anything he and I have ever had.
“Why is it so hard for you to imagine me being happy without you, Nicholas?”
“It’s not, Paisley,” he says, gliding his hand to my bare thigh, picking at the lining of my denim shorts, “But our entire relationship felt like a competition with him. I’m not exactly 214
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his biggest fan.”
I follow his hand with my fingers, gently pushing him off.
“There was a time when I still loved you. I loved everything about you. Now? I see somebody else, especially when you’re beside her.”
I shake my head, fishing for the ending of this conversation, fingering at the door handle again.
“Paisley, c’mon.”
“Nick, I accept apologies,always,but not when they’re done to make yourself feel like the better person.”
My fingers are ripped from the handle right when I get a grip, and suddenly, his hands grab hold of both of my wrists.
He had me right where he wanted me, and his lips followed suit, trapping mine as he forced himself onto me. The taste of his lips was familiar but uncomfortable and distasteful. I even waited to see if time would change it, but it got more gross as the seconds transpired.
Our lips parted, relieving me of the torture, “You don’t have to say anything right now. Just think about it, will you? I think we’re so good together. He can’t give you the things I can.”
Pressing a few fingers on his chest, I push him back, finishing my escape from his car. I close the door behind me, fixing myself before I face him.
“Hey, just one thing.”
“What?”
“You’re right about Josh. He might be unable to give me what you can, but you know what?”
He curls his lips to one side as I watch his head inflate.
“What’s that?”
“He’s given me a lot better than you. Even if heisa fish boy.”
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I flash a petty smile, tossing my hair around as I walk down my walkway, proud of myself.
I finally won the battle.
I have to rid myself of this man, completely, once and for all.
No more dwelling on what he’s doing or if he’s doing it for me.
I’ve wasted more time than it’s ever been worth. I couldn’t imagine spendingmoretime than I have on thinking about relationships. With less than a month and a half left of break, I realize I haven’t spent much time with my parents or Tate. I think about the previous years when we would have a summer break and how different things would’ve been four or even seven years ago. I would spend most of the morning bickering with Tate about who could eat the last bit of cereal left.
And then we would wait for Mom or Dad to tell us we were being insufferable at the breakfast table.
As we get older, our will to bicker has grown weak, and, unfortunately, we barely have interest in what either of us is even doing in life. Well, for him, that might sound true, but I can’t get with that narrative. I love my little brother.
I’m scared that one day he might never want to speak again, growing sick of my antics as an older sister. Some things I refuse to let down because it’s simply just my job as his sibling.
