Page 22 of Win You Over
“And I don’t feel like I won either. I saw the look on your face at the end, Holden. You stopped fighting me because you were afraid.”
I take a step back from him, slapping away his hand and causing the envelope to fall to the ground. Shame and embarrassment stir together in a cauldron of anger, making my body shake. Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes and will myself to calm down. My hand skims the side of my shorts, reaching for my knife, remembering all too late that I didn’t bring it outside with me, having left it in my bag that Theo is holding. Instead, I clench my hand into a fist, my nails biting into the soft skin of my palm.
One of the many downsides to being bullied is how other people besides the bullies treat you. Like you’re damaged, fragile, not capable of standing on your own feet. My mother hid me from the world, keeping me off school until we left the UK. No one visited me because who would? I had no friends left. And on the few occasions I ventured out of the house, the pitying looks and whispered gossip from people who didn’t know a fucking thing about me, had me wishing I’d died in the forest that day.
Now Remington is looking at me in that same way, and Ifuckinghate it. Pity is like a slow acting poison, killing the person I’ve worked hard to become, one glance at a time. What’s worse is he doesn’t know my story. Between the fight and now, he’s concoctedsomethingin his head that has him looking at me like I’m glass about to shatter. Or maybe glass that’s already shattered.
“I’m not broken.”
He holds up a hand. “I never said you were, but –”
“No.” There's more power to my voice than I expected, taking both of us by surprise. Remington’s eyes widen and his lips twitch as if he’s fighting back a smile.
“You won. I’ll be your boyfriend.”
He stops fighting his smile, letting it take over his face.
“Fake boyfriend,” I say, quietly adding on the important quantifier of this sham relationship.
“Yeah? Because you don’t have to, given that –” he waves his hand towards the warehouse where it sounds like the fight night has transformed into a full on party.
I raise my hand to stop him from arguing.
He opens his mouth but shuts it again when someone calls his name and then the distant chatter of a group gets louder as all his friends descend into the alley. As they get closer, I feel the shutters come down around me.
Before they reach us, Remington bends down, picks up the envelope and hides it in the waistband of his shorts. Finn is the first one at Remington’s side, knocking his shoulder into his friend before addressing him.
“We’re getting out of here, Rem. You ready?”
Finn’s eyes narrow when they lock on to me and he doesn’t wait for Remington to reply before he’s speaking again.
“Why the fuck are you always around?” He points a finger at me. “You’ll never fit in with us, so quit trying. Jesus, desperation does not look good on you, Booker.”
Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.I narrow my eyes at Finn.
“Dude, chill out,” Remington remarks sternly. “Holden and I are friends. Don’t be so fucking rude.”
Finn’s mouth falls open, giving the impression of a fish out of water, and the group behind him all quieten down.
“You’re fucking with me right now,” Finn bites out. “You expect me to believe you and loser boy are buddies? What afucking joke.” He spins so his back is to me, one hand landing on the inside of Remington’s arm. His touch is light. Intimate. Like maybe there’s something between them – a possibility that crosses my mind, not for the first time.
“You don’t need more friends. Let’s go, or do you really want to ditch us forhim?” Finn tips his head towards the group and it’s like I’m watching a sliding doors moment play out in front of me. Remington has a choice to make. Either he stays right here with me and we finish discussing this wedding date situation or he leaves with his friends and maintains the status quo.
I don’t know why there’s a sharp pain behind my ribcage, right where my heart lives, when he makes his choice.
Chapter 10
Remington
Istretch out in bed, my naked body aching from last night’s fight and my head pounding from all the alcohol I consumed after. I hadn’t wanted to party and had certainly not wanted to walk away from Holden. I saw something in him during that fight, something I want to know more about. Not so I can fix whatever hurt him, but so that I can understand him better. And then fix whatever hurt him. Or kill the fucker responsible.
Finn is my best friend though, so how was I meant to handle the situation? I did what felt like the right thing to do at the time, even if my mind strayed back to Holden the entire night. When Finn had tried to climb into my bed during the early hours of this morning, his hand reaching for my cock, I’d gently pushed him away. In his drunken state, he hadn’t appreciated me saying no– hadn’t really expected it either – and had stormed out of my room, slamming the door behind him.
As much as the thought makes my skin itch – never one for confrontation – I think Finn and I need to have a little talk about the sexual side of our relationship. Especially now that I’m going to have to pretend to be all in with Holden.
Checking my phone, I note I only have one message and it’s from my mom.
Mom: I’m not cleaning up the den after you. If you’re going to throw parties like drunken frat boys, you will clean it up yourself.
