Page 51 of Seeds of Love
Her face goes white. “That’s not fair. You can’t just kiss me to shut me up when I’m angry with you.”
Something in me snaps. I’d rather have her hate me than this—than whatever this thing is between us that I can’t seem to control. Than me risking everything for someone who won’t even listen to me. I risked everything with this proposal, and for what? For her to look at me like I’m the enemy?
“We fucked, Alex. Grow up and get used to it. It didn’t mean anything—just a good time between friends.” The words come out cruel, deliberate. I want to hurt her like she’s hurting me.
The moment the words leave my mouth, I want to snatch them back. Her face crumples for just a second before hardening into something cold and distant, and I realize I’ve done exactly what I set out to do. I’ve made her hate me. But that has to be better than this—than feeling like my whole world revolves around her smile, than knowing I’d risk everything just to help her, than admitting that somewhere along the way, she became the most important thing in my life. Than admitting I’m falling for her so hard I can barely breathe.
“Freddie,” she whispers, and somehow that’s worse than if she’d screamed it. Her eyes are bright with unshed tears, and Isee the exact moment something breaks between us. Something I’ll never be able to fix.
Fuck me.I did not think this through.
“Alex, I?—”
“Don’t.” Her voice cracks, and there’s something final in it that makes my chest cave in. “Just... get out.”
She slams the door in my face so hard the walls shake. I stand there like the world’s biggest asshole. The taste of her chapstick still lingers on my lips. I want to wipe it off, but my arm doesn’t seem to be working.
The worst part? I know exactly why she’s so pissed. We promised not to go there again, we swore to keep it just friends. Made a whole fucking pact about it after that night—no more blurring the lines, no more pretending we could handle the in-between.
And I just took that promise and set it on fire.
I need a drink. Or ten. Maybe I’ll call Troy and Ethan, see if they’re up for getting wasted and making bad decisions. Because clearly, that’s what I’m good at. Anything to drown out the voice in my head that says I just destroyed the best thing in my life because I was too much of a coward to admit how much she means to me.
ALEX
NOW – SOPHOMORE YEAR – JANUARY
Our new apartment still smells of fresh paint. After a year of sharing a shoebox dorm with Piper, this place feels like a palace. But right now, it might as well be a prison cell.
Our apartment complex, like most student housing near UMS, had been retrofitted with all the latest green technology. Solar water heaters on the roof, smart thermostats in every unit, even a community garden in the courtyard where residents could grow their own vegetables. The rent was higher than the older buildings in town, but a lot of UMS students can afford it.
Luckily, my parents are happy to help with the rent. My mom even gushes about the fancy, eco-conscious place I’m living in to her clients.
“Did you see they’re adding another bike share station?” Tara called from the kitchen, where she was sorting our recycling with religious dedication. “Troy says the university’s goal is to have more bikes than parking spots by next year.”
“Yeah,” I murmur.
“Look, it’s not the end of the world,” Tara reasons, perched on the edge of our sofa like some kind of well-meaning gargoyle.
I want to laugh. Or cry. Or maybe throw something. Instead, I just sink deeper into the couch cushions, willing them to swallow me whole.
“It is,” I grumble, the words tasting bitter on my tongue.
“You guys were friends before and…” Tara starts, but falters under my death glare.
She throws her hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay! I know he didn’t agree with the protest, but whatever you guys said afterward can’t have been that bad.”
If only she knew. The words burn in my throat, begging to be released. But I swallow them down, like I’ve been doing for months. It’s stupid, really. I’ve told Tara everything since we met—from my breakfast choices to my childhood traumas. But this? This feels different. Raw. Humiliating.
Because how do you tell your best friend that you were dumb enough to sleep with Freddie fucking Donovan? That you thought you could do the whole “friends with benefits” thing and come out unscathed?
God, I was so naive.
I’d had a crush on him. A stupid, schoolgirl crush that I buried so deep I almost convinced myself it didn’t exist. And Freddie? He was oblivious. Or at least, I thought he was. He’d remind me constantly that we were just friends, regale me with tales of his latest conquests. And I’d smile and nod, because being his friend was enough. It had to be.
For the first time in my life, I had a group. Friends. A place where I belonged. And then the protest happened, and it all went to shit.
Freddie had called me childish. Naive. His words burrowed under my skin, poisonous little arrows that found everyinsecurity I’d ever had. And then, just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, he kissed me.
