Chapter 6 Dom
Dom
Istared at the door in shock as Harry’s footsteps faded.
Every part of my body was on fire, everything within me screaming at how right it was holding him in my arms. There was nothing else I wanted, but I fucked it up again.
I wasn’t even thinking when I told him it didn’t matter, because I didn’t want to know how he felt.
I didn’t want him to stop and think about the fact that I was about to suck his cock.
I was fucking useless.
I should have told him how I felt as soon as we kissed. That was my chance, and I fucking blew it.
My heart pounded in my ears as I weighed my choices. How the hell was I supposed to apologise when he wanted it too? He wouldn’t have let me hold him and love on him like that if he didn't.
Why the fuck couldn't I act right when it was important? At least with Harry?
I lifted a hand to my mouth, covering my lips with my palm, squeezing my cheeks with my fingertips.
There was no denying it, and I hated that the hope pouring through me drowned out everything else that said I needed to back the fuck off.
But I had to do something. I couldn’t just let him run off thinking that I didn’t give a shit about him.
I shot forwards, grabbing the handle, flinging open the door as I grit my teeth. There was a spare key under the mat, and I didn't care about getting locked out when I was losing him.
It was only one flight of stairs to reach him. Twenty seconds at most.
I took them two at a time, slamming my shoulder into the wall at the bend. As soon as I laid eyes on the empty foyer, I tripped. My heart flew into my throat as I stumbled, jumping down the last four steps to awkwardly land at a bad angle and fold my ankle.
This wasn't how it was meant to go. It was supposed to be a valiant chase after my love. So what the fuck was I doing dragging myself to my feet and bolting across twenty yards of the foyer to slap my hand against the glass doors?
But it was too late.
Of course, it was too late.
I didn't even have the right to burst out onto the street as a black cab carried him away.
My ankle pulsed more quietly than my aching heart as I spun back around. My phone was upstairs. I could still ring him, text him, do whatever the fuck I could to get him back.
We had arguments like this occasionally. I went too far with my flirting, or he cancelled too many plans because of work.
It was fine. It was what we did.
I just needed to keep telling myself that so I didn’t give up. I’d come too far now, committed too much to let him go.
The moment I was back inside, I swiped Molly’s phone from my jacket pocket, resisting the urge to shove my t-shirt in my face and take a deep inhale of his lingering smell.
I should congratulate myself for not being a dick and fucking him straight away, but there were hardly any cheers in that.
I swear it hadn't even been a minute since he left, but the phone lit up, vibrating in my hand.
I didn’t want to read it. I didn’t want to know what he had said to her. But it was right there, right on the fucking screen. And I couldn't exactly switch off my eyes when they were already on it.
Harry: Why haven’t you texted me? I’ve been waiting for you. Today was really hard and I needed you. Where have you been?
Leaning forwards, I pressed myself against the waterfall of coats that hung next to my door. Just burying myself in them, vanishing inside them, dragging in the mix of scents as I failed to get my shit together.
I tipped my head, my phone clutched in the same hand that had cupped his neck, the whisper of his soft curls still tingling my fingertips, his taste fresh in my mouth.
I couldn’t escape. It hurt too much. I was fucking drowning and not a single person knew.
I hadn’t even told Christian how far this had gone.
I didn’t know how people coped.
Was that better or worse than the time my dad beat the shit out of me after finding me with my first boyfriend? Because the pain felt the same.
But I loved him. And I was willing to push myself deeper into the lie just to find out what he would do for me. I’d swim in denial, pretend that this would somehow turn out well, if only to have one more day with him. Even if he thought I was Molly, even if it was all for Molly.
The war raging inside me was reaching an end, and all that would be left when it was done would be the husk of a man who only ever wanted to be in love.
I let out a shuddering breath, pathetically close to breaking down as pain pulsed steadily with my heartbeat.
Only a minute passed when Molly’s phone buzzed again.
Groaning, I banged my head against the wall in frustration.
I leaned back, forcing my hand up.
Harry: Can you just call me as soon as you can? This is important.
I stared at the screen, trying to calm down. I knew I was jumping to conclusions. I fucking knew I was pent up and letting my emotions get to me, but I couldn’t stop the voice shouting inside my head that said I was his second choice.
It would never be me he would go to first. I’d marred our relationship because I was so fucking selfish that I couldn’t leave him alone.
Plans were already forming of getting shit-faced and spending the whole night drunk-dialling Harry to get him to call me back like some desperate ex.
In the end, I’d only ruin our relationship even more.
I went on so much about trying to escape everything Sally had forced onto me, and I was still scum in the end.
And then the phone buzzed again. And again. And one more fucking time.
“Just stop,” I moaned into the empty room. “Stop it. Please.” My voice cracked.
I didn’t want to know what else he had to say, or why he needed her more than me. Each text pulled me further and further away from him.
I clenched my teeth as I lifted the phone again.
Harry: Please, Molly, I need my friend back. Just let me talk to you.
Harry: Even if you don't say anything, I just want to talk.
Harry: Molly? Are you there?