Page 60 of Envy

He walks toward me. “Please … stop. I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done this. I shouldn’t have done what I just did. I was drunk. I thought …”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” he says angrily, his teeth clenched.

My heart sinks. What have I done?

I run my hands through my hair and then cover my face with my hands.

I can’t fucking take this. I scream. The sound is muffled by my hands, but in my own ears, it resounds like an alarm.

Graham’s arms come around me, and my scream turns into a sob. His attempt at comfort feels like a dagger slashing at me. I don’t understand why I love him when I can’t have him. I push out of his embrace with a shove.

I spin around the room looking for my clothes. I look down at myself and feel a flush of shame at my nudity and what I just did. I am such a fool.

“Graham. I’m so sorry that I touched you like that. I thought … I thought you wanted …”

I can’t see through the tears streaming down my face, but Graham takes my hand and guides me back to the bed. I don’t offer any resistance. I feel drained. My emotions have gone from rage to gut-wrenching sadness in the span of a few minutes.

I’d bargained—thrown a Hail Mary—and I’d come up short.

Graham sits down beside me. I can’t bring myself to look at him.

“Apollo. I’m trying to protect you,” he says as if that explains everything. I turn to look at him. My eyes are full of fire as I take in his tortured expression.

“Don’t tell me you’re protecting me. I can take care of myself. You just want to continue whatever the hell you’re doing. You and that creepy woman who you clearly can’t stand but who you spend more time with than you do anyone else. Who is she really? Do you sleep with her?” I ask, and I watch him closely.

“She’s my agent. I’ve told you,” he says without looking at me.

“What kind of agent touches you like she owns your body?”

“Why are you doing this?” he growls and pushes off the bed.

“Doing what? Asking questions? Because we’re friends, remember?” My voice is heavy with sarcasm. “Well, we were. Before you decided to destroy that.”

His face drains of blood. “I’m not destroying our friendship. I’m trying to save it,” he says in a whisper and then stands and starts pacing.

I get up, too. “Are you serious? You think we can go back to the way we were after the way you’ve behaved over the last nine months? You broke every promise you made. And after last night? Do you really think I could be your friend after you let me walk into that restaurant and be blindsided by you and your girlfriend or whatever the fuck she is?” I shout at him, unable to hide my surprise. I walk over to the bathroom and pick up my discarded clothes.

“She’s not my girlfriend. She’s my agent. And everything I do with and for her is for money. But that doesn’t mean our friendship is over. It can’t be,” he says, and I stop to look at him.

“Why do you even care? You have your mom. You have your famous friends and you Instagram harem. You have Nanette. You’re about to skyrocket into another stratosphere. I get it.”

“It’s not like that, I just need time …”

I stare at him. My eyes feel like they are going to pop out of their sockets.

“Are you actually repeating that line again? On what planet do you think I’d ever believe a word you said? You want me to wait for you? To sit on a shelf while you fuck your brains out? No fucking way.”

I pull my dress over my head and scan the room for my shoes. I need to get out of here.

He stalks over to me, stops a few steps away from me and looks down at me with his most severe frown. “You think I like what I do? That I’m happy about the path my life has taken?”

I cross my arms over my chest. “Of course, you like it. Who wouldn’t?” I can’t believe what he’s saying.

He throws his head back and growls in frustration, his fists are in balls at his side. “You don’t understand. And I can’t explain it …”

“I don’t need you to explain. You have shown me everything. Your message is crystal clear. You don’t want to fuck me because—”

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