Page 49 of Deep In Love
“Who do you look for first in a room?” he asks, and it all clicks. Oh, shit. “I think she sees him,” Oliver says, and the walls close in on me. My lungs constrict, and the beginning stages of a massive spiral begin. Sweaty hands. Shallow breaths. Racing thoughts.
“Uh…Charles, don’t get weird when I ask you this—”
“I won’t get weird. I’m not weird.”
My head does an odd jerking motion, which does not validate my declaration.
Do you see me? Do you see me? Do you see me?
His words replay on a loop in my mind. He’s all I see, and it’s infuriating and terrifying, and I’ve never felt so utterly consumed by someone before.
“Do you have a crush on Mateo?”
“What? No!” I don’t know why my first reaction is to deny my feelings, but the words are shrill and unbelievable.
“I’m just asking because you’ve spoken about him every day since we’ve met, and your eye is doing that twitching thing when you’re upset and bottling it up.”
She shrugs, her pink hair bobbing. I hate when she does that annoying best-friend thing where she sees straight through my bullshit.
“Ugh. Fine. Maybe I do. But it doesn’t matter because he will barely speak to me. I’ve finally begun to like him, and now hehatesme.”
“Maybe apologize,” she offers. I open my mouth, and she lifts a hand. “Even if you don’t know what you did wrong. It could help.”
“You’re right.”
“I know,” she preens. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, there is a very hot man lying naked in my bed.”
“You think I’m hot?” Oliver teases.
Bleh.
“Go.”
At least one of us is going to have a good time tonight, because I sure as hell am not going to while I practice my apology speech.
Chapter 15
Mateo
“Wanna share your feelings?”
I leap, nearly spilling my scalding coffee as Jett’s hot breath hits the back of my neck.
“It’s not healthy, man,” he continues, flopping into the chair across from me in the mess area. “Your insides will rot.”
“I’m fine,” I say, using one of Charlie’s favorite phrases.
“You’re not a great liar.”
I huff a laugh, but it’s bitter and empty.
How do I explain to him that when I woke up this morning and turned over, Charlie was right there within arm’s reach, but she felt miles away?
Or how watching her sit beside Shaun made me sick with jealousy?
And everything I feel is a product of my own choices, so I have no one to blame but myself. Frustration bubbles to the surface, with nowhere to release the tension.
It’s not Charlie’s fault, or Shaun’s, but I can’t shake the anger and disappointment, and it’s slowly eating away at what little hope remained.
