How could I have been so blind? I was cautious, wasn’t I? So when the hell did I drop my walls?
Probably when he gave me his stupid Ivey hoodie and yanked my Rotman one like he was claiming territory. Or maybe it was thechhole. I hadn’t made it for him. He texted last-minute, asking if I could bring over whatever food I’d made for myself. The spice almost killed him. He downed half a jug of water, his face bright red, eyes watering—andstillwent for seconds.
“Burns so good,” he’d rasped, cheeks flushed, smile wide despite the tears in his eyes.
And that’s how they get you, isn’t it? Through the little things.
Not the grand gestures.
It’s the damn borrowed hoodies.
The sleepy mumblings.
The random nose boops.
The fucking—shit—the wrist kisses.
The neck kisses.
The stupid ankle kisses when he was thrusting into me like he wasn’t just chasing his release, but building something—one orgasm at a time.
Oh God!Was I even there during those times? Was he imagining someone else? Someone with a better body.
Someone with curves.
Someone with boobs that didn’t almost disappear when lying down.
Someone likeher.
I don’t want to cry again.God!
My phone chimes. Not the dreadedtunn-tunn!—just a sharp, impersonalting!from Messages.
A small part of me deflates.
So I don’t even merit a drunk ranting? A desperate text?
Shit. I hate that I’m disappointed.
Get a grip.
I finally pick up the phone and glance at the screen.
Liam: What’s your buzzer code?
The fuck?
I jolt upright and toss the blanket off me, thumbing out a reply as I walk to the living room.
Me: Go away!
A few minutes pass and I almost feel like he’s left. But then—
Liam: Never mind, I got it. Buzz me in.
Ting!
Liam: And no.
