Page 12 of The Jester and His Outlaw: Part 2

Charley never has been good at listening. Surprise, surprise.

“Charley,” I whisper and shake her. “Charley, wake up.” Her new copy of The Outsiders is open and laying on her chest. It slides off and shuts when she jolts and sits up.

“What? What is it? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I growl. “You’re supposed to be gone. Why are you here, sleeping in my bed? I told you to leave.”

She yawns and rubs her eyes, and I have to keep myself from thinking about how adorable she looks and how much I want to pull her into my arms, wrap the covers around her, and hold her until I have thoroughly snuggled her.

“I know, I’m sorry. I told myself I was just going to read for a second, then I switched off the light because you were stirring and I guess I fell asleep.”

“I appreciate your help, but I’m fine.”

“Are you hungry? I can fix you something to eat.”

I’m starved, but I won’t tell her that. I need her to go.

“I said I’m good. Now please leave. You don’t need to waste any more of your time here.” She scoops a lock of her hair behind her ear and though I can’t see her, only her silhouette as she makes the motion, my fingers itch to replace hers.

“I’m not wasting my time. I have no practice today and only two classes. Both of which I’m completely caught up in.” I grind my teeth together at her stubbornness. For once, I’d just like her to listen to me. This girl needs the award for most relentless.

“I don’t want you here, Charley,” I bite and even in the dark room, I can see how much that one hurt. Being an asshole is not what I want, but this is about self-preservation and I’ll never survive if I keep seeing her.

“Do you really mean that?” she asks, sadness bleeding into her words.

We both know what my hesitation means, that I don’t mean it at all, but I tell her I do, anyway.

“Riggs,” she starts.

“Stop, Charley, stop doing this. I need you to leave.” I hate how cold I sound, but she needs to get the picture and go. My heart cannot take having her around. Space is the only thing that will mend me. Space from her, even if it’s not what I want at all, but what I need.

I throw my legs over the bed and wait until my equilibrium settles, then I stand, clutching my torso because fucking ouch. Nausea curdles my already empty stomach and I fight back a burp of straight bile.

Charley beats me to the door. “You good?” she asks.

“Yes, I’m going to shower, then eat. You can go. I’m fine,” I try again, the broken record of my pleas skipping again and again.

Her chin wobbles and she squeezes her eyes shut. I ignore every screaming part of my body that begs to comfort her. She can’t cry over me. My life is a shit show that will only drag hers down. The sooner she learns that, the better. Holding her won’t help either of us.

She collects her things as I grab my towel from the back of my door and make my way across the apartment, past Gramma’s empty room, to the bathroom.

“Feel better,” she murmurs and I barely hear her, but I wouldn’t miss that voice for anything. That voice does shit to me. That voice, the pain it holds, breaks me, and I have to choke back my emotions.

“I will. Thank you for staying with me.” With that, I slip into the bathroom and close the door because I’m a coward and if I watch her any longer, I won’t be able to stop myself from reaching for her.

After a long shower and a failed attempt at rubbing one out to clear my system of her, I turn the water off and dry myself. Then I wrap the towel around my waist and open the door. I’m tired and worn out and hard as a fucking rock. The need to come is so strong, but I can’t get my mind to focus long enough on other thoughts and only when I think of her do I want to finish.

Thinking of her is dangerous, so I stopped myself, but my cock didn’t get the memo.

A muffled gasp draws my attention to the other side of the room where Charley stands—never having left—the front door swung open as if she had forgotten what she was doing.

I expect my voice to come out harsh, but when it does, it’s breathless. “What are you still doing here?”

“I’m sorry.” Her hazel eyes are burning with heat and lust, and through her shirt, I watch her nipples harden. She’s so fucking perfect. My heart skips beats and my cock pulses beneath the towel, putting on a show for her. She licks her lips, but it’s not a conscious decision. “I just wanted to see that you were okay. That you didn’t fall in the shower or anything. Then I was going to leave, I promise.”

I ball my fists to dispel the tension in the room as my annoyance rises. This girl is going to make sure I suffer through trying to let her go. She sure as fuck will not make it easy. Every emotion known to man registers in my system, but I can’t fight the lust that is taking over.

No, not lust. We don’t need lust.

---