Page 42 of The Downside of Love
Be the dick and throw all the rules out the window.
Claim what was yours to begin with.
But before I can gain the courage to make my move, she presses her hand to her forehead.
Stepping away, she clears her throat and throws me from my pep talk. “I don’t want to sound like a bitch here, Stryder, but I’ll pull the roommate card if I need to.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, my breathing heavy, my body thrumming with need. The way the muted light bounces off her, it looks like there’s a goddamn halo over her head.
“I’m letting you stay here, so at the very least, I deserve the decency of an answered text. I was…” Her voice tightens and she swallows. “I was worried, Stryder.”
Her brow pinches together and she bites down on the corner of her lip, her eyes watering.
Shit.
Without thinking about the consequences, I step forward and pull her into a hug so her cheek rests against my bare chest, her skin melding against mine. My heart lurches against my lungs, the burning need for this woman ignited to dangerous levels as she grips on to me, her smooth hands pressing against my back, easing the tension in my muscles.
“I was really worried,” she says, her voice weak, just about bringing me to my knees.
Moving my hand to her head, I press my fingers into her hair, the soft strands like silk. “I’m sorry, Rory. I’m really fucking sorry.”
Looking up, a stray tear falls down her cheek that I quickly wipe away with the pad of my thumb.
I couldn’t feel like more of an ass than I do at this moment. I made Rory cry, and that realization cuts deeper than finding out I didn’t make it into flight school. I don’t ever want to be the source of her tears, of her sorrow.
And yet, here I am, causing my beautiful girl to cry.
Notmine.Shit.
“Fuck, please don’t cry,” I breathe out heavily, feeling panicky.
“I’m sorry. It’s just, I started thinking of all the things you could possibly be doing, or the things that could happen to you, and when you weren’t answering, I thought maybe I did or said something wrong.”
“No.” I shake my head, bringing her into my chest again, cradling her head. “You did nothing wrong. Don’t ever think my shitty attitude relates to you. Okay?” I take in a deep breath. “That was Hardie on the phone, and his conversations are always hard for me to take in, to process.”
“Oh.” Lifting her head again, but still wrapped around me, her arms my comfort, she asks, “What did he say to you?”
“Just talked about flight school and shit I hate talking about. I don’t really want to get into it again.”
Understanding passes over her and she says, “And you just needed to walk?”
I nod. “It wouldn’t have been good for me to come up here right away. You think I’m a dick now, try talking to me right after I got off the phone. I was in no mood to be around you.” Cupping her cheek, my heart hammering I my chest, I say, “I don’t ever want to be in a bad mood around you, Rory. You deserve more than that.” My thumb passes over her cheek and for a brief second, I can feel her head lean into my touch as her eyes flutter shut, only to open abruptly, as if she caught herself doing something bad.
Searching my eyes, she says, “You don’t have to hide yourself around me, Stryder.”She has no idea how much of myself I am hiding. From her.
“I need to, Rory. If anything, I need to do it to protect you. I don’t ever want to hurt you.” Wanting to make sure she doesn’t see through me, I say, “You’ve done so much for me, given me so much, I don’t ever want you to think I’m taking that for granted.”
“I know you don’t. I just wish you would talk to me more instead of hiding.”
I tip her chin. “Hiding is what I do best.” Pulling away, feeling way too much for her in this moment, I grab the back of my neck and say, “I’m sorry for everything. I really am.”
She clasps her hands in front of her, looking shy, she says, “I know.”
Casting a glance at the stove, I notice the time is getting incredibly late for two people who need to wake up early in the morning. “We should get to bed. Early morning.”
She plays with the hem of her shirt and she fidgets in place. “Are you going to be okay?”
Answering honestly, I say, “I don’t know. I sure as hell hope so.”
