Chapter 58
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
ARCH
Sunlight poured through the windows into the room. I turned onto my side and tugged Astrid closer, breathing in the scent of her strawberry shampoo. Mom and Astrid’s dad talked quietly in the kitchen, their voices drifting underneath the door.
I blinked my eyes open slowly, catching the golden glow against Astrid’s face.
Her head rested on my biceps, face relaxed, lips slightly parted. She looked … peaceful.
My chest warmed, and for a moment, I forgot the rules that I had set for myself. While I didn’t want her with any of the other guys in The Crew, while I wanted her pregnant even … I had promised myself that I wouldn’t cross one particular line.
Catching feelings.
Fingers twitching to brush a strand of hair out of her face, I stopped myself, my hand hovering in the air before I clenched it into a fist.
What the hell are you doing, Arch? I stiffened, the warmth of the moment quickly replaced by anger.
What am I doing here? I should’ve slept in my own bed.
After carefully sliding my arm out from underneath her head, I shifted away. The bed creaked under my weight, and I froze, hoping that she wouldn’t wake up. I didn’t want to see her all sleepy again, curling up next to me like she wanted … like I wanted … something more.
Fuck that.
She stirred, her brows knitting, but then she turned onto her side.
I released a quiet breath and sat on the edge of the bed, tugging on my pants. I shouldn’t have fucking allowed myself to sleep with her last night.
Fucking? That was fine.
This? Fuck no. Never.
But I couldn’t help myself.
Not when I had seen her walk in after her date with Frasier.
Not when I pushed her up against our parents’ bedroom door.
Not when I took her to bed and lay down beside her.
She hadn’t asked me. She hadn’t fucking asked me, and I had done it anyway.
I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms as I tried to bury my feelings. I couldn’t afford to feel this way about anyone and especially not her. Everyone in The Crew was obsessed with her, and … fuck, I was too.
Memories of that fucker I used to call Dad seeped into my mind. The way he’d looked at Mom, the way his affection always turned to anger, the way he’d twisted into an ugly monster behind closed doors.
I refused to be like him.
I refused to even allow myself to get into a relationship so I couldn’t be like him.
Once I grabbed a hoodie that Astrid had stolen from me a couple of weeks ago, I tugged it over my head. My breathing hitched, and I stood, desperate to get out of this room that felt like it was closing in on me.
I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be here.
“Arch?” Astrid whispered right before I grabbed the door handle.
“Go back to sleep,” I growled, voice void of emotion.
She frowned and propped herself up onto her elbows. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
I didn’t know why I hadn’t grabbed the door handle and stormed out of the room, but I stayed planted to the spot as Astrid slipped out of the bed and walked over to me. I turned my head away, not allowing myself to look at her.
“Don’t be a dick. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“There’s nothing wrong.”
“Then why are you in my bedroom?”
“Because we fell asleep together last night.”
Astrid stayed quiet for a long time, but I could feel her eyes on me. Then, suddenly, she curled her arm around mine and pulled me closer with it. In my peripheral vision, I saw the smallest smile on her face, cheeks rounding.
“I know,” she whispered.
She knew, and she still asked me?
“Is that why you’re leaving?” she asked. “You’re scared?”
I yanked myself out of her grasp. “Scared of what? You?”
“Not of me,” she said, readjusting herself. She scanned my face for a few moments, her gaze drifting from my eyes to my lips and then back up, her breath hitching for a moment. “I mean … of … this?”
“Of what?” I asked again.
“Of us.”
“Don’t be fucking stupid, Astrid,” I growled, throwing the door open. “There is no us.”