Page 155 of Sexting the Boss
I try not to grip the hem of my sweatshirt too tight, but I can’t help it.
This…feels like the end.
Not a pause. Not a fight we’ll get over.
Anend.
When the car pulls up outside my apartment, he finally kills the engine.
I don’t move.
Neither does he.
The city hums outside the window. People walk by. Life goes on like it didn’t just punch me in the heart and leave.
“Thanks for the ride,” I say, aiming for calm. My voice comes out thinner than I want.
Damien finally looks at me.
His eyes flick over my face like he’s trying to memorize it. The scar near my eyebrow. The mess of my hair. The tired sadness I can’t quite hide.
“Sasha…” he starts, but the words trail off.
I shake my head. “Don’t. It’s fine.”
“It’s not.”
“No,” I admit quietly, “but I’d rather pretend it is. At least for now.”
The silence sits between us again, heavier this time. Like if either of us says the wrong thing, everything will collapse.
I reach for the door handle.
He grabs my hand.
It stops me cold.
His palm is warm. Familiar. Too much.
My eyes sting, but I don’t let it show. I can’t.
“You were never just some game,” he says, voice low, rough. “You need to know that.”
“I do.” I manage a small, sad smile. “But that doesn’t change anything, does it?”
He lets go.
I get out of the car before I lose the nerve.
I walk up the steps to my building, pull out my keys, and force my feet to keep moving.
The car is still idling behind me when I get to the door. I pause, hand on the knob.
But I don’t turn around.
Because if I do, I know I’ll run back.
And I can’t survive being left a second time.
