Page 59 of Don't Let Me Fall (Don't Let Me 1)

Shit.

Dropping my hand to my side, I rock back on my heels and put an inch of much-needed space between us and fold my arms. “Why?” I demand. “Why do you want to do this for me?”

“Because I want to,” he deflects, looking down at me, his eyes shining with something, though I can’t place what it is.

“Why?” I repeat. But I don’t know what I’m expecting to hear. And honestly, I’m not even sure I’m talking about the stupid car anymore.

I wanna know why he won’t leave me alone. Not only physically but also emotionally. Because I can’t stop thinking about him. Where he’s at when I’m not with him. What he’s thinking. If the feelings are mutual, or if I’ve made up the chemistry between us.

It’s confusing. And draining. And I don’t know how to cope with it or how to make it go away. I feel lost. And more alone than I’ve felt in my entire life.

“You can’t keep doing this,” I murmur.

“I’m not doing anything––”

“Bullshit,” I spit. “You can’t keep messing with my head. You can’t keep betraying Mia––”

“I’m not betraying her.”

“Just stop,” I seethe. “Stop lying.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Bullshit.” I shake my head. “This is all bullshit.” I step away from him and find his keys on my nightstand. I march back to him and shove them against his chest. “Here. These belong to you. Oh. And one more thing.” I take his T-shirt folded on top of my dresser, the same one taunting me since our little encounter in his hallway, and offer it to him.

But he doesn’t take it.

“I gave it to you,” he replies.

Like some silent battle of wills, I push it to his chest, but he lets his arms hang limply at his sides, refusing to give in.

“Fine.” I slip past him and march down the hallway toward Mia, using the sweetest, most sincere voice I can muster. “Hey, Mia! I almost forgot. Colt wanted me to give this to you.” I drop the shirt on Mia’s lap and look over my shoulder at him. “Right, Colt?”

His lips are pulled into a thin line, and he’s glaring at me, but he doesn’t say a word.

Sensing the animosity between us, Mia interjects, “Uh…thank you?”

Satisfied, I slip past a frozen Colt in the hall and close my bedroom door behind me. Quietly. Carefully. So he won’t know how angry––how jealous––I really am.

But my pride over finally beating Colt at his own game only lasts for about two seconds. It fades away, replaced with longing and regret.

Because what just happened between us? It feels a lot more final than what I’d been hoping. But isn’t it what I want? To finally end this stupid charade?

I don’t know anymore.

And my victory?

It doesn’t taste sweet.

Actually, it tastes like shit.

I hate it.

26

ASHLYN

I skipped the last tutoring session with Colt.

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