Chapter 22
“Tell me about your ex.”
I glance over to Daisy, surprise flickering across my face at the sudden question. I don’t normally like talking about my last relationship because I can’t stand the sympathy. When I told my family I called off my engagement, the only thing they worried about was making sure I was okay and if I was making the right decision. And honestly, as much as I love my family, their worry was suffocating to the point that I debated not moving back home at all. I didn’t know how long I could suffer through listening to my family constantly ask whether I’m alright or not. They always meant well, but I wanted to figure it out on my own.
But when I look into Daisy’s eyes, all I find is a warmth I lose myself in. There’s no ounce of judgment in those beautiful eyes, only an invitation to share however much or little I want without pressure. Like she, too, understands the stress of constantly being overanalyzed by the people in her life and the hesitation to open up. Like she hasn’t found her person to talk to and—fuck me, but I want to be that person for her. I want to be somebody she can lean on as much as I’m about to. I want her to feel the same security I do when she’s near.
I want her to feel safe because that’s how I feel when I look at her.
I feel safe with Daisy, and the realization hits hard enough that I would’ve crumpled had I not been sitting.
“What do you want to know?”
Her bright and open face softens in a way that either seems like relief or understanding. Maybe she had the same revelations I did, or she’s glad I finally spoke up. Either way, I don’t dwell on the thought long enough, too distracted by the pounding in my chest as I watch her absentmindedly rub her thigh. How I’d love to run my hand over her curves and feel the smoothness of her skin underneath mine.
I glance away.
“Anything you want to share,” she says softly, tucking her forearm on the side of her head as she leans against the couch cushion, her body angled towards mine.
My hands twitch to reach for her, but I lean forward instead, resting my elbows against my knees and dropping my head.
“Yasmin and I were together for six years,” I start, running a quick hand through my hair. “It wasn’t all bad, but it wasn’t good, either. We were in a few of the same classes together throughout undergrad. Naturally, we started bonding over our mutual dislike for certain professors or subject matter, and I think dating came naturally. She’s a beautiful girl and truly has so much to offer somebody, but who she is and who I am trying to be just don’t line up.”
“Who are you trying to be?” Daisy asks curiously with a tilt of her head.
“Better.”
“Better for who?” You is on the tip of my tongue as I glance at the pretty girl sitting on the corner of my couch with her legs tucked underneath her, but I don’t say that. I lean back on the couch and drop my arms so my hand is splayed closer to her thigh. Her near proximity relaxes me enough to continue.
“I don’t want to be better for somebody but rather for myself,” I say, leaning all the way back against the couch cushions, my gaze trained on the ceiling. “When I proposed to Yasmin, I did it because it felt right at the time, and maybe it was. But the longer we stayed together, I knew it wouldn’t have lasted. Or if it did, it wouldn’t have been a great marriage.”
“Why not?” Daisy asks. From the corner of my eye, I see her shift slightly, her hand relaxing against her thigh. I don’t know what compels me to do it, maybe because I’m sharing something uncomfortable and need the grounding, but I grab her hand. If she’s surprised, she doesn’t let on but interlaces our fingers without a second thought. Sliding my gaze over to her, a faint blush hits her cheeks, a small smile on her lips. I grin and look back up towards the ceiling.
“Yasmin has a lot of shit she needs to sort out,” I say, not wanting to discuss the negatives about my ex with somebody I’m trying to pursue. I don’t want to give the impression I’m somebody who attracts unhealthy people, but it’s also not my place to talk poorly about an ex just because. I was raised to treat women better than that, even if I don’t fully agree with how the relationship worked out. “And I think she needed to do that alone.”
When I look back over at Daisy, she nods her head in understanding, pensive in thought.
After a beat, she speaks up. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”
My shoulders drop in relief as if I’d been doused by water to a flame. I didn’t expect Daisy to judge me, but I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect.
“Do you want to get married? Eventually?” she asks a moment later, like she’s hesitant to continue asking questions. I’d tell Daisy anything she wanted to know if it meant I could listen to her talk forever.
“Someday,” I reply. “I haven’t found the one yet.”
“And how do you know who ‘the one’ is?”
I peer over at her, a smirk forming on my lips. “You know, for somebody who claims they don’t want to be my friend, you sure do have a lot of questions about my life. Do you like me, Daisy?”
She rolls her eyes playfully. “Liking you isn’t hard.”
As soon as it’s out, she tries pulling her hand from mine like she’s embarrassed she said that outloud. I won’t let her close in on herself because she’s uncomfortable, although I won’t lie. A twinge of relief floods through me, knowing how she feels in some capacity. It wouldn’t surprise me if she started shutting down now that her small admission is out in the open, but it’s nice knowing that I’m not the only one feeling something. My fingers tighten on hers in reassurance, maintaining a mask of composure as I watch her internally battle herself.
I’ve only seen this battle a few times throughout the short amount of time I’ve known Daisy. Once, when we were in the bar after she discovered we’d danced together, that same night when I walked her home and declared us being friends, and the following morning when I declared the same thing. I let her work through whatever it is she’s trying to, but it’s hard keeping my mouth shut when her eyebrows are slightly indented, and there’s a faraway look in her eyes. It’s not all-consuming, but it’s noticeable enough that the golden hues in her eyes pop.
I don’t think many people have fought for Daisy—have proven to her that she’s worth every challenge it takes to get her to open up. I have a feeling when she finally puts her walls down and lets somebody in, it’ll be impossible not to fall in love with her.
Which is why I’m absolutely terrified.
“Why do you do that?” I ask curiously, hoping my voice doesn’t hint at accusation. I’ve asked her this question before, but Daisy deflects anytime she’s feeling uncomfortable. A part of me wants to hurt whoever made her grow up feeling so…unworthy, but I’d rather be the one to prove to her that she’s worth everything and then some. Plus, the last thing I want to do is spook a girl who’s already on the verge of running.
“Do what?”
“Shut people out.”
She doesn’t meet my gaze, but her grip tightens on my fingers. I force myself not to smile.
This is good, I think to myself. Progress.
“I don’t mean to,” she replies quietly, absentmindedly rubbing the side of my index finger with her thumb. Her gaze narrows, as if she’s trying to figure out how to answer my question. “I sometimes think it’s easier to be guarded.”
“I guess,” I say, turning my head to look at her. “But isn’t that lonely? Don’t you want people to know you?”
She finally casts a glance my way, our eyes locked in a way that takes my breath away. She regards me carefully, roaming my face slowly.
“I want the right people to know me.”
The air is the room slowly dissipates, and my chest squeezes as our gazes stay fixated on the other. The urge to pull her into my arms and kiss her is strong; so strong I have to tuck my free hand under my thigh so I don’t reach for her. Her eyes dart to the movement before lifting back to my face.
“And how do you know if they’re the right people?” I ask, my voice thickening. Her chest rises and falls, emotion swirling through her eyes I can’t identify.
Her mouth opens briefly before it closes again, the walls slowly coming back up. The moment between us is there one minute and abruptly gone the next. I fight the internal annoyance and shake my head. It’s not directed at her, but rather the circumstances that made her feel so unsafe and unworthy that she doesn’t feel comfortable opening up to others.
“It’s getting late, and I probably should head home.”
Shock works its way through my body, and before I time to say anything, she’s dropping her hand from mine and standing from the couch. She quickly wipes her palms against her thighs as she makes her way over to the entryway to slip on her shoes.
“Daisy,” I call out, standing and following her through the living room. She ignores me and is about to pull open the door when my hand reaches for her elbow, grabbing and pulling her into me before she has time to fight it. Her body tenses in my arms, those beautiful eyes wild like a stray animal that just got trapped, yet I find myself locked back in.
She opens her mouth to argue, but I shake my head.
“Don’t do that,” I say softly, hoping I’m not scaring her. Her body is still tense with apprehension, but she doesn’t make a sudden move to flee. If she did, I’d let her go instantly, but I don’t because she’s exactly where I want her—in my arms. “Don’t push me away.”
Her eyes dart between mine, guardedness flickering throughout. But beyond that, there’s a hint of vulnerability, like she wants me to see her but is scared to show herself. I do see her, and I want to bash the face of the motherfucker who made her feel like she was unworthy of love.
“I’m not,” she says softly, her body relaxing slowly in my arms. “I just need to go home.”
“You are,” I reply, my free hand reaching up to trace her jaw with the side of my index finger. “And I want to know why. I want to get to know you, Daisy.”
She scoffs, shaking her head with a hardness to her voice that wasn’t there before. Another wall. “I promise you, you don’t.”
“But I do,” I say, continuing to talk to her with the same gentleness. If, for no other reason, it keeps her somewhat relaxed in my arms. I want to savor this moment because I don’t know when I’ll get the chance again.
“Why?” she asks, her voice almost a whisper.
My finger rests under her chin and tilts her face so she’s looking directly into my eyes. I feel my face soften when her eyes brim with unshed tears.
“I want to know everything about you, Daisy Girl,” I say gently. “I think the wrong people have taken advantage of your heart, and I don’t want to be one of those people.”
She blinks a few times, and sadness fills her eyes. There’s no ounce of hope or belief in her gaze, and from the way she’s looking at me, I can guarantee that other people have promised the same thing. Promised and broke it just as quickly. My heart cracks in my chest.
I won’t be one of those people.
“That’s the thing about people, Tanner,” she says after a moment, gaze briefly flicking to my lips. “They’ll promise you everything you want to hear, and when it no longer benefits them, they’ll leave.”
“Good thing I don’t have any intention on leaving,” I say without realizing. She jerks her head in shock, taking a step back from my hold. Too stunned and a bit heartbroken over her admission, I don’t reach out for her right away.
Her hand grips the handle again, but she looks over her shoulder before pulling the door open. Contemplation filling her face before she speaks again. “If I could trust somebody again,” she starts. “It would be you.”
I stare at the girl in front of me, the one with the heartbroken eyes and every wall she’s ever known put back up.
I step forward. “Daisy—“
“Goodnight, Tanner,” she calls over her shoulder, quickly stepping out of the apartment before I have a chance to fight for her. To kiss her, prove to her that I’m not going anywhere. But it’s too late, and now I’m worried I’ve missed my chance.