I shrug. “Just curious.”
His brows knit together as he blinks. “I prefer it here,” he admits.
“Really?” I say skeptically. “Even with my dad around?”
His jaw clenches slightly. “He’s a piece of shit. But you’re here.”
You’re here.
He says that as if he’d follow me anywhere. As if he’d dive headfirst into a fiery lava pit if I was at the bottom.
“I’ve never seen your room,” I point out, a little curious. I’ve always wondered about it. What color are the walls? Does he have any art hanging up? Where does he keep his video games?
“It’s nothing special,” he replies with a shrug, crossing the room to play a record. The vinyl scratches as the song starts, filling the room with music.
I lean back on my hands, watching him. Why is he so secretive about his house? The only time I’ve been over there was to ask him to come play when I was twelve. His dad answered the door, clearly annoyed, but a few minutes later, Chris came outside, with his hood pulled up, and told me to call him next time, and he’d meet me at my house.
“Have you brought other girls over?”
He glances at me. “No.”
“Never?”
“Never.”
A sense of relief washes over me at his response. But my mind is still swirling with questions, and before I can stop myself, I blurt out, “Would you ever bring me?”
His jaw tightens as he walks toward me. “No,” he answers firmly. “That’s the last place I’d take you.”
“Why?”
He doesn’t answer, instead he pulls back the comforter and sheets on my bed. “You’re tired. Get in.”
My neck twists as I look up at him. His expression is tense, and I lick my lips nervously. “Aren’t you going to help me out of this dress?”
The muscle in his jaw tightens again, and he shakes his head. “You’re fucking wasted,” he murmurs. “I shouldn’t have let you drink that much.”
“It helps me think less,” I tell him with a frown. “I don’t feel that hollow feeling in my chest as much when I’m drunk.”
He frowns. “Your mom?”
Among other things. But I nod, my nose tingling with the signs of tears building in my eyes. “It’s so hard,” I say, my voice cracking. “Waking up and not seeing her.”
“Fuck.” Chris sinks onto the bed beside me, and pulls me into him, wrapping his arms around me. The moment my head hits his chest, I break down, bawling my eyes out. “I’m so sorry, Gabi.”
“It’s not your fault,” I manage to say, shaking my head.
“I’m still sorry.” He tightens his hold on me. “I’m sorry I didn’t do anything when I knew what was going on.” His voice becomes thick.
“I asked you not to.”
“It doesn’t fucking matter,” he replies, pulling back slightly to hold my face in his hands, locking eyes with me intensely. “You’re too damn important for me to have let that shit go on.” He shakes his head, and my heart pounds harder and harder. “It killed me seeing how much it hurt you. I can’t bear to see you hurt again.”
“I won’t,” I say, keeping my eyes on his. “I promise I won’t do it again.”
“Once is more than enough,” he grits out, tears brimming in his eyes as he clutches my face. “You mean too fucking much to me. If you ever...” He trails off, squeezing his eyes shut, unable to finish the thought. “I don’t know what I would ever do if you—”
I don’t think.
