Page 89 of The Invitation
I don’t want to jump to conclusions, although I guess I already did. I suppose I just don’t want to assume that this was anything more to him than a fuck. Because I don’t know what it was and I’m afraid to think about it too much.
My chest tightens at the silence.
“You know, I believe you didn’t plan this,” I say, leaning off him. “I don’t think you expected this to happen any more than I did.”
He places a hand on my shoulder and gently guides me back into him.
My heart races.
“But I don’t want you to feel like you’re somehow … I don’t know. I guess I don’t want you to feel like I have any expectations going forward. You have a life and I’m just?—”
“Hey.”
I stop talking and sit perfectly still.
He sighs. “I’m going to be very honest with you, okay?”
I nod.
“And no matter what I say, I don’t expect you to reciprocate those feelings,” he says. “I actually doubt you will. But I’ve spent over ten years keeping them to myself and even if you laugh in my face, I think it’s time to get it out in the open.”
What the hell is he going to say?
I stare at the wall across the room, listening to my blood rush through my ears. Ripley draws small circles on my arm as he presumably figures out what to say.
I have no idea what that’s going to be and the anticipation is killing me. I would swivel around and tell him how I feel if I knew what that was—or, if more honestly, I wasn’t afraid to speak first. The last thing I want to hear is that I don’t fit in his world like this.
Why would he want it to be anything more after I’ve already screwed up his life? And how do I act like he didn’t lose his scholarship over me? And his dad didn’t hit him in the face over it?
Surely, he still has some disdain for me in his heart, and I can’t blame him.
“What I told you earlier is true,” he says, his voice a few octaves above a whisper. “I was smitten with you the day I saw you. I felt this connection to you the moment I saw you walking down the hall—like I was your protector. Like you were mine to protect.”
Tears fill my eyes. No one has ever said anything like that to me before.
“I—”
“Please let me finish.” He presses a kiss to the top of my head. “I couldn’t stand you hating me, but I was too prideful to ask why. It was easier to spar back with you. That way, I still got to be in your world, in your life, even if it wasn’t with you.”
He presses another kiss to my head.
“I’m sitting here right now hoping that it rains forever,” he says. “Because if we walk out of here and I never get to experience this again, I want as many memories with you as I can get.”
My gosh. I sniffle back the tears, his words hitting me in the heart.
“I don’t know what I want,” he says. “It seems crazy to even start talking about things long-term when I don’t even know if you want to see me again. But, if I have my way, I’d really like the opportunity to try to make up for the years we’ve wasted being mad over goofy things.”
I sit up, pulling away from his grip, and turn to him. I straddle him so I can see into his eyes.
“I hate being emotional,” I say, laughing as tears stream down my face. “It makes me feel weak.”
He brushes the tears away with the pads of his thumbs. “It doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human.”
“Well, it feels really stupid that we’ve gone our whole lives without realizing the truth,” I say. “And I feel absolutely shitty for hating you when you were protecting me the whole time. I’m a terrible person.”
“No, you’re not.” He kisses me softly, smiling. “I didn’t think a girl like you would be seriously interested in me, so I let you think the worst. It was easier having you hate me without knowing me than having you hate me after you did.”
“You seriously break my heart when you say things like that.”
