Page 63 of Messy Strokes (Wrecked Roommates)

I needhim.

I’ve always needed him, and I hate how he couldn’t see it. That he didn’t catch me when I first took the leap and tried to tell him how I really felt. He couldn’t let go of the damn crystal ball long enough to embrace me in all my imperfect glory.

Instead, I was left questioning why. Why I wasn’t enough. Why he chose to be alone instead of committing to a relationship with me.

I know I’m not perfect. I know I don’t have my shit together.

Loving me is messy.

I know it is.

It’s hard enough formeto see all my positive traits and love myself. Putting them all on the line in hopes Milo saw the value of them? It was freaking terrifying.

It’sstillfreaking terrifying.

Especially when his lips are on mine. When our future doesn’t feel so far out of reach.

But a girl can hope, can’t she? In spite of my shortcomings. In spite of my mistakes. I’m still worthy of love.

Aren’t I?

With a low groan, he squeezes my breast over my clothes with his other hand, causing my core to clench with need. But I feel empty. So damn empty. And I need more. I needhim.

“Milo,” I whimper against him, shifting closer until the center console digs into my hip.

The warmth from his hand disappears, leaving me cold and wanting. His breathing is heavy and ragged as he pulls away from me and rests his forehead against mine.

“What’s wrong?” I whisper.

“I wasn’t afraid to date you,” he breathes out.

“What?”

“You said I was afraid to date you.”

“I know––”

“I wasn’t.”

“W-what?” My eyelids flutter as I try to catch my breath. “Where is this coming from?”

He shakes his head and puts more distance between us, settling back in his seat. “I feel like you deserve the truth.”

“The truth?”

“I wasn’t afraid to date you.”

“Then why––”

“I knew you’d get bored.”

My mind spins as I touch my heated forehead, trying to register his comment. Everything’s moving so fast. I can’t think straight.

“Who’s to say I would’ve gotten bored?” I whisper.

How we went from making out to having this conversation is beyond me, but I’m not sure I like where it’s going. I can still feel the slight scruff burn from his facial hair against my mouth. Hell, I can still taste him.

It doesn’t make any sense.

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