Page 130 of Perfect
I know it’s a dream because Alex doesn’t cook.
I know it’s a dream because Alex fucking hates me, which sheshould.
My world is falling apart, and I might not know what’s real anymore, but I know thiscan’tbe real.
I thought I was better. I thought I’d done enough work on myself in prison, and that Dr. Mills was full of shit. I honestly didn’t see how out of control I got with Alex.
I look at Alex’s back and close my eyes to block it out. Okay, maybe I knew I was alittleout of control, but everything I did made so much sense when I did it.
Now, nothing makes sense.
I think Dr. Mills has been trying to talk to me about this for months, and I’ve been doing my best not to listen to her. She’s been trying to protect Alex from me, and for good reason. She was right that this situation has been a nightmare for Alex. God, I’m such a piece of shit.
Alex is absolutely right, too. Did I work hard to trap her? Fuck yeah, I did. I took every opportunity I saw, I made opportunities where I could, and I did everything in my fucking power to trap her. To make matters worse, itworked, and now she’s here the way I wanted.
I’m living inside a dream, but it feels empty now. Alex was always supposed to want to be here, was always supposed to love me back.
For the first time, the tight rush of obsession dwindles as I stare at her. I don’t know that I’ve ever really seen Alex as a whole person before, but I’m starting to now, and it’s painful. I've been ignoring so much about her, like the fact that I’ve been making her fuckingmiserable. Instead of the unmitigated happiness I felt a few hours ago, I feel a thick, oily slide of guilt in my stomach.
God, I think I barely even know her.
The first pieces of French toast come out dark, and Alex fiddles with the gas range to get the right level of flame, slipping more butter into the pan. Why would she be cooking? There are so many leftovers in the fridge. This is a dream, so it’s probably just wish fulfillment.
My brain seems to be exceptionally good at that.
I stare at her, my mind skipping over everything she said on repeat, always landing back on the fact that shecouldwant me,couldlove me, but that I’ve fucked it up. That’s a new level of fucking up I wasn’t even aware I was capable of.
I can’t believe I did this to her. I’m no better than her husband.
Actually, I’m still much better than her husband. Unlike him,Iwould never fucking hurt her. I’m unsure about pretty much everything else in my life, but I knowthatfor a fact – she does too, now.
I can’tbelieveshe thought I was going to fucking kill her. It’s almost like she tried to get me to do it, but that’s ridiculous.
Alex isn’t like that.
I watch Alex grab some more butter, staring at her back. Jesus, I can’t believe I did that. Where the fuck did that impulse even come from? My impulses have never made me want to do anything like that. That’s objectively insane.
Fuck, I wish I was the version of me she wants, someone who just asked her on a date and slowly built something with her. Then we’d be here for real, and this would actually be perfect, or at least good. All I want is to go back and start over, to give herthat,butI don’t think I can.
I think this is maybe the last time I’ll ever see her.
I watch her glance back at me, and I want to keep her. I still feel like we’re connected, even though I probably shouldn’t. I still feel like she’s mine, even though that’s probably wrong. She likes me andwishesshe could love me, even though I’m ruining her life, so maybe I can fix this. Maybe I can undo everything I did that’s ruining her life, and we can start over.
That’s the dumbest fucking idea I’ve ever had.
I don’t think I can fix it, and I don’t think I deserve a chance, but all I want is to beg her to let me try. I shouldn’t, IknowIshouldn’t. I should leave her the fuck alone, but I can’t help it. Everything is fucked, and I have one desire in my life right now, and it’s to try fix this and make it real so I can keep her.
God, I’m a selfish prick.
I take a deep breath, pushing down the impulse. If Ididask her, she’d say no. She fucking hates me, I know she does. Even if she doesn’t hate me,it probably wouldn’t fix anything.
“Alex?” I’m so fucking stupid for even attempting this.
“Hmmm?” Alex plops the next pieces of toast into the pan before she looks over at me, concerned. I think I’m going to vomit or pass out, so I take another deep breath.
“Is there any way I could fix this?” She looks confused, and I rush to explain. “If I stopped stalking you, could I fix this? I’ll stop following you, I’ll take the cameras out, I’ll remove the trackers, I’ll give back my keys to your place – if I do all of that and I ask you out like you wanted in the first place, would that fix anything between us, even a little bit?” Her eyes go wide but she doesn’t say anything, and I’m absolutely going to vomit. “You can say no, and if you do, you can stay in Astoria or you can leave, but I swear I’ll leave you alone no matter what. I just want to fix this.” Her expression becomes incredulous, and she tilts her head a little, staring at me with wide eyes. She seems to be considering what I’m asking, which quells some of my nausea. She turns away from me, staying quiet for an agonizingly long minute.
“Theo, are you seriously, aftereverything, trying to ask me on a fuckingdate?” I grip the cold tile of the counter, trying to stay present in my body and not vomit. When she puts it like that, it sounds really fucking stupid.
