don’t know that I can deny it anymore. Her lip turns up in a quirky smile. She grabs the beer, downing it, and then she slams the glass on the table. Well, fuck. Maybe she really does have a wild side.
“Problems gone?” I tease.
“Nope. My life still sucks.”
She says it in the cutest way possible. I wonder what she would think if she knew about mine. I don’t know how to respond, so I suggest something a little harder. At this point, I need it as bad as she does. I’m fighting my entire body and mind by not reaching across the table and undressing her.
“Bring me whatever you think will make tonight have never happened.”
Whiskey it is. I order two shots, but Lily downs both of them before I can even sit.
“Anything?” I ask.
“Two more. I don’t want to feel anything.”
I shrug. It’s stupid. If she gets drunk, my one chance with her will be spent holding her hair while she pukes or helping her up the stairs at the dorm. However, I do what she asks because I’m so happy to have the chance to be here with her tonight, even if it is sad and meaningless. I haven’t had anything except a little beer, but it’s better this way. I want to remember her eyes and the way she looks.
I bring back the other shots and they’re gone almost immediately. I sit, not sure more alcohol is a good idea. She looks at me, the hurt obvious in her face, and I want to make whatever is hurting her go away.
“Do you do this a lot?” she asks me.
“When I need to forget. Which I guess is a lot by most people’s standards.”
“What do you need to forget?”
Wow. Not the time to go there. “Nothing that is going to help you disappear.”
“But this works?”
“Sometimes. Sometimes, I just wake up feeling like shit. And then I remember. And feel like shit some more.”
Lily reaches across the table, looking for any last drops of whiskey in the shot glasses, but her hand brushes mine and my entire body tenses. Does she know what I’m thinking? Does she know what I want with her? Do I know what I want with her? Yes, it is physical and I can’t stop thinking about bringing her back to my room and helping her forget in a whole different way. There’s something else, though. I want to hold her, to shelter her from pain, to have her lift her face toward me with her eyes sparkling. I want to kiss her, to see if her lips taste like strawberries. I don’t know how to feel all of this.
“Why are you even talking to me?” she asks. “I thought you hated me.”
“I don’t hate you. I just thought I hated your type.”
“So you don’t hate my type? Or I’m not the type you thought?”
“Good question,” I answer.
“Why did you invite me out?”
“Seemed like the right thing to do. You can’t seem to stop running into me, princess.”
“I’m not a princess. I’m nothing.” She looks at me again and I swear, I will say or do anything to make her keep looking at me this way. I can’t remember a time when anyone has looked at me like this.
There is no way she’s nothing. She matters to me, and although I may be an expert in worthlessness, I know she is not. “I really doubt that,” I counter.
“It’s true.”
The hurt I feel at her sadness is palpable. I move the glasses aside and brush her hand with mine. “Princess, you’re more than you think you are. And whatever made you come here tonight is not worth your time.”
She looks down and makes a small choking sound. I think she’s about to cry, but when I ask if she’s okay, she looks at me again and it’s all gone. She’s gone, back to staring at me like I’m nothing to her and as if the pain she’s in is my fault.
“I’m not gonna puke on you,” she snaps. “Calm down. I just don’t have anything to say. You’re getting all serious on me.”
And we’re back.
Screw it. If she wants to play games, I can play. For a moment, I thought I could be open with someone. I thought there was a way my pain could be something less
“Problems gone?” I tease.
“Nope. My life still sucks.”
She says it in the cutest way possible. I wonder what she would think if she knew about mine. I don’t know how to respond, so I suggest something a little harder. At this point, I need it as bad as she does. I’m fighting my entire body and mind by not reaching across the table and undressing her.
“Bring me whatever you think will make tonight have never happened.”
Whiskey it is. I order two shots, but Lily downs both of them before I can even sit.
“Anything?” I ask.
“Two more. I don’t want to feel anything.”
I shrug. It’s stupid. If she gets drunk, my one chance with her will be spent holding her hair while she pukes or helping her up the stairs at the dorm. However, I do what she asks because I’m so happy to have the chance to be here with her tonight, even if it is sad and meaningless. I haven’t had anything except a little beer, but it’s better this way. I want to remember her eyes and the way she looks.
I bring back the other shots and they’re gone almost immediately. I sit, not sure more alcohol is a good idea. She looks at me, the hurt obvious in her face, and I want to make whatever is hurting her go away.
“Do you do this a lot?” she asks me.
“When I need to forget. Which I guess is a lot by most people’s standards.”
“What do you need to forget?”
Wow. Not the time to go there. “Nothing that is going to help you disappear.”
“But this works?”
“Sometimes. Sometimes, I just wake up feeling like shit. And then I remember. And feel like shit some more.”
Lily reaches across the table, looking for any last drops of whiskey in the shot glasses, but her hand brushes mine and my entire body tenses. Does she know what I’m thinking? Does she know what I want with her? Do I know what I want with her? Yes, it is physical and I can’t stop thinking about bringing her back to my room and helping her forget in a whole different way. There’s something else, though. I want to hold her, to shelter her from pain, to have her lift her face toward me with her eyes sparkling. I want to kiss her, to see if her lips taste like strawberries. I don’t know how to feel all of this.
“Why are you even talking to me?” she asks. “I thought you hated me.”
“I don’t hate you. I just thought I hated your type.”
“So you don’t hate my type? Or I’m not the type you thought?”
“Good question,” I answer.
“Why did you invite me out?”
“Seemed like the right thing to do. You can’t seem to stop running into me, princess.”
“I’m not a princess. I’m nothing.” She looks at me again and I swear, I will say or do anything to make her keep looking at me this way. I can’t remember a time when anyone has looked at me like this.
There is no way she’s nothing. She matters to me, and although I may be an expert in worthlessness, I know she is not. “I really doubt that,” I counter.
“It’s true.”
The hurt I feel at her sadness is palpable. I move the glasses aside and brush her hand with mine. “Princess, you’re more than you think you are. And whatever made you come here tonight is not worth your time.”
She looks down and makes a small choking sound. I think she’s about to cry, but when I ask if she’s okay, she looks at me again and it’s all gone. She’s gone, back to staring at me like I’m nothing to her and as if the pain she’s in is my fault.
“I’m not gonna puke on you,” she snaps. “Calm down. I just don’t have anything to say. You’re getting all serious on me.”
And we’re back.
Screw it. If she wants to play games, I can play. For a moment, I thought I could be open with someone. I thought there was a way my pain could be something less
Similar Books
