I hold my arms out to Xeno, my fingers splayed as I reach for the boy I loved, to the man I’m angry with now. For all his bitter and hateful words, I still love him. I don’t think I’ll ever stop. Why is love so fucking painful? Why does it have the power to bring us to our knees?
Our eyes meet, and he glares at me, but still he refuses to let the hurt go. His mouth presses into a hard line and he knocks his head back against the door, slamming his eyes shut.
Fucking stubborn bastard.
I scoff, spinning away then ducking low. Sweeping my leg out before I lean on my right hand and flick into a walkover. When I look back over at him, he’s staring at me, his body vibrating with tension. I walk towards him slowly, fully aware of the frantic beat of my heart and the desperate need to hold him. Stopping a few feet away I draw in a deep breath then jerk my chin up with my knuckles. Jorja’s words flow over me. Reminding me of the girl who was never quite sure if I was good enough for him.
Those same insecurities that plagued me over the years when we were friends flood me now. They twist me up with self-loathing, with guilt, with hurt. They wrap around me as I try to shake them off, as I throw my arms and legs out and spin away from him in a series of open split leaps.
No.
Iwasgood enough.
Xenopushedme away when we were kids.
Hemademe fucking choose.
Hewatchedme walk away, and never questioned it.
Hesawme fucking bleed out my soul when I danced at Grim’s club and it did nothing but make him question my intentions. Xeno doesn’t trust me and he can’t fucking bear to see me reconnect with his brothers.
He’slet me downin the worst possible way.
But at least I’m willing totry, despite everything against us.
At least I’m willing to look past the damn graveyard of our friendship and attempt at building bridges.
Xeno’s a motherfucking coward.
I stop dancing and pull up straight, forcing my shoulders back. Striding over to my shoes, I snatch them up and abruptly end the song, then grab my mobile phone. He tracks my every move as I walk towards him, lighting my skin with his wrath.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he snarls, gripping hold of my arm as I reach for the door handle.
“This is over,” I say softly. He barks out a laugh. There’s a wildness in his eyes that scares me, that flips a switch inside my chest. Iwill notlet him hurt me. If he dares to fucking touch me, I will fight. “What are you going to do, Xeno? Prove to me how much of a big bad gangster you are, huh? Are you going tohurtme, is that it? Is that what you do for Jeb, Xeno? Do you hurt people and get off on it? Is that why you’re here? To hurt me, to keep me in line for Jeb, or are you this mad because York and Zayn aren’t following your rules anymore, that they’re making their own minds up? Are you pissed because they’re choosingme,just like I warned you they might when we were kids?”
Xeno’s eyes widen, my words somehow hitting their mark, and it makes me wonder how close to the truth I really am. I don’t have to wonder for long.
“Yes, I’ve hurt people, Pen. I’ve done it in Jeb’s name, in the Skins’ name and I fucking loathe myself for it. I’m ashamed of the man I’ve become, and it eats me up inside, but do you know what I’mnotashamed of?” he asks, his fingers squeezing tightly to the point of pain.
“What, Xeno?” I hush out.
“I’m not ashamed of the fact that I did it to protectthem. To protect my brothers. Everything I do is for Zayn, York, and Dax. That is whatloveis, Pen. Not walking away, not turning your back on people you care about when it gets too hard.” He’s panting now, his body shaking with feeling and I let out a sad laugh.
“I know everything about protecting the ones you love,” I say softly, gutted that he thinks so very little of me. His eyes flash with pain, then confusion, and I reach up to cup his cheek, tempering his painful grip with a soft touch of my own. He flinches, but he doesn’t pull away. “Because that’s what I did too. That’s whatIdid, Xeno. You were just too angry to see it. You’restilltoo angry to see it.” My hand drops from his face, and this time he doesn’t prevent me from leaving. This time he lets me go.
Ten minutes later, with a face covered in make-up to hide the blotchiness of my skin, I plaster on a fake smile and sip some cheap white wine whilst Clancy and River try to entertain me with their drunken banter. It’s just as well we’re drinking because it's easier to pretend that your heart isn’t a bloody mess when alcohol numbs the pain.