Page 28 of Sever
My arms tighten around his, wanting to stay like this, locked in this bubble where we can just be close to each other. But I know that isn’t possible.
I slide off the bike, my legs like jelly as I take the first few steps toward my building. Ryder surprises me as he takes my hand, leading me toward the door, not letting go when I fish my keys from my purse and we walk inside.
The door closes and it’s like all the awkwardness is trapped inside with us, the air thick with it, making it impossible to ignore. I don’t know what to say, or how to start the conversation.
Ryder takes my purse from my shoulder and drops it to the floor with an unceremonious thump, his large frame immediately crowding me, backing me against the hallway wall, his hands coming to rest on either side of my head, caging me in. His head drops and I think he’s going to kiss me. I close my eyes.
But nothing happens.
I look at him to find him studying me, his gaze seeing me as if I’m laid bare to him. I’ve never been able to hide my feelings from him in the past. I don’t know what made me think I’d be able to now.
“What’s wrong?”
His breath is warm against my face. He’s too close. I can’t think straight. My hands go to his chest, applying a slight pressure that he reads because he backs away.
But not far enough.
I push at his chest, forcing him away from me as I begin to pace.
“What’s wrong? You can't just charge back into my life and think that we can pick up where we left off.” I turn back to face him, tears building in my eyes, hating them for being there. “Not after what you did to me.”
He laughs, but the sound is incredulous, which makes no sense. “After what I did to you? Jesus, Megan, you develop amnesia?”
“No, unfortunately, I didn't. Every day I remember all the pain you put me through. I tried to bury it, to bury you, but I never could. You left a scar on my heart that’s never healed.”
“Funny”—his hand runs through his hair—“that you’re putting all this shit on me when you fucking ended it! How can you play the goddamn victim when you were the one who screwed me over?” His voice echoes off the walls, louder in the enclosed space.
For the life of me, I can't figure out what the hell he is talking about.
“I screwed you over? I waited outside my house for eight hours, Ryder. I had a suitcase. I sat on that step, looking like an idiot, waiting for a boy who never came.” The tears start to fall and I swipe at them. I hate that I’m showing him how much he affected me back then. How he still affects me now.
“You really must have dreamt that shit. You told me not to come. All those messages about how you hated me, and I wasn’t good enough, and you never wanted to see me again.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I am so over these damn games. “I never texted you. I waited for you.”
The two of us stand there for the longest time before he walks closer to me. Taking my hand, he leads me to the couch, and as he sinks back into the cushions, a deep sigh leaves his mouth.
“The week before I was supposed to come back, I started getting these texts from you.” He pauses and looks at me, as if he thinks I'll miraculously remember what he's talking about. “You were saying that you were having second thoughts, you didn't think us being together after school was a good idea. I tried to call you but you never picked up. The day before I was supposed to come get you I got your final message. Something along the lines of you had always been too good for me, and you'd finally realized that. You said to stay away from you and that you never wanted to see my face again. You regretted everything we had together, regretted ever meeting me.”
He looks over at me and I'm speechless.
My mind goes back to that day. “I can't believe her.”
Specifically, how calm my mother was.
