Only that you would end up fucking Navarro
Andie
In my defense you threw such a bitch fit about this the last time we brought it up that I thought you’d have more restraint
I let out a scandalized gasp.
Me
Hey! I do have restraint. And in your defense??? How is any of what you just said any better?
Andie
Ronnie
Hate to break it to you bae but around Navarro you have the restraint of a snapped rubber band
My skin grows hot as I furiously hunt for a GIF of Mr. Darcy from the 2005 film adaptation ofPride & Prejudice—Ronnie’s favorite movie and the perfect weapon to voice my outrage. His handsome face fills the screen alongside the quote, “So this is your opinion of me. Thank you for explaining it so fully.”
Ronnie’s only response is a kissy-face emoji and the wordsSorry not sorry.
I’m still frowning at my phone when it vibrates with another message.
Andie
Do you still hate him?
A whooshing breath parts my lips as somersaulting butterflies fill the now empty void in my stomach. I asked myself that very same question on the flight to Guadalajara, and it has haunted me every moment since.DoI still hate Damian?
The answer is immediate when I ask myself this time. Maybe the changes in altitude and time zone have given me some much-needed clarity of mind, or maybe Damian’s confession in the car is what’s helping me see things so clearly now. Regardless of the reason, I respond truthfully. Mynewtruth.
Me
No. I don’t think I do
Over the next two and a half weeks, when I’m not in class—or with Ronnie and Andie, bearing the brunt of their unending stream of “I told you so”—I’m with Damian, though our public outings are considerably briefer than usual.
Instead, we spend our time together in a near-constant state of undress, as if having sex again in Mexico unhinged something inside us. We fuck like we’re trying to make up for lost time—usually in Damian’s room, albeit with a few daring exceptionswhere that potential exhibitionist kink of mine was really put to the test.
I haven’t ever felt this sated, not even when I was with Parker (especiallynot when I was with Parker), and I can’t seem to get enough, even as every cell in my body keeps screaming at me that sleeping with Damian is a bad idea. That I’m going to wind up hurt again. That this will only end in heartache.
But then, for it to end in heartbreak would mean one—or both—of us feels something deeper than a simple sexual attraction for the other, and that’s absurd…isn’t it? Only a few days ago, I would’ve thought,yes, that’s absolutely ridiculous, but now, I’m not so sure. Of my own evolving (yet, still conflicted) feelings, despite trying to keep them at a distance.
Or of Damian’s.
It doesn’t escape my notice that, ever since Guadalajara, he has his own internal conflict that he refuses to talk about. I sense it behind every easy smile and quip, and it’s always there between us, in every subsequent touch and kiss. He fucks me like he’s working through something. Like he’s searching for the answer to a question that relentlessly plagues him, and he’ll only find it deep inside me, in a place he can only reach one way. His enthusiasm is appreciated and well-received; I only wish I knew the cause of it.
Neither one of us has brought up what he said to me that day in the car—or those two words I said back—and I can’t decide if that’s for the best, or if it’s simply leaving this, whateverthisis between us now, unresolved.
Our relationship as it stands is like an ellipsis at the end of a sentence, the thought of it incomplete. In some ways, it’s like we’re stuck in a bubble in time. Frozen. Never moving forward or back. I’m grateful for the latter; I don’t want to go back to what we were before—to being enemies, if you could call us that. Butas nice as it is, I don’t want to stay like this either, in this weird space between the truth and a lie.
This is my fault. I asked for this. I pushed to be more than enemies, business associates, friends, whatever we are. And now, I’m left drowning in the uncertainty of the unknown.
Perhaps I shouldn’t have suggested we put sex on the table. It’s complicated everything when so much was already on the line, and I’m no longer convinced we can make it to his graduation deadline without this arrangement blowing up in our faces.
Or at least, blowing up in mine.
Maybe Damian would’ve been better off making this agreement with someone he didn’t have such a murky past with—or a past at all. Someone who is immune to his charms, the way I try so hard to be. Then I could go back to hating him instead of being trapped in this weird limbo where Iwantto forgive him, Iwantto move on, but the lingering hurt in my heart is holding me back. A festering wound that’s taking too long to heal.
