Chapter 29 #5
Her heart twists painfully as she looks at him, something inside her shifting, loosening, breaking open.
The man standing before her no longer resembles the unshakable Greek god she thought she knew.
He looks human now. He’s raw, frayed at the edges, trembling as though one breath away from coming undone.
She can’t reconcile this version of him with the man who claimed he only wanted fun, nothing more.
Slowly, she releases the handle. She lifts her hand to his face, guiding it down to hers, and gives him one final kiss.
His arms close around her immediately, urgent and instinctive, pulling her flush against him. Her body is soft against his chest, and he’s afraid letting go might shatter him completely.
Finally, she pushes him back, turning her eyes away as if to shield herself from the pull of his presence.
“If you ever change your mind or need anything, you have my number. You can call me anytime. Or text me. And, uh… I’ll be in touch soon about some prospects. A couple of galleries showed interest, and I know a few spots that could use a mural.”
He still wears that bewilderingly pained expression.
There’s an innate urge to wrap him in a hug so tight it might chase away that sad look.
But she reminds herself that Max isn’t right for her.
The confusing, intense feelings she’s harboring for him will fade with time, especially now that Jake is back in her life.
Jake offers the safety and stability she needs. And Max…
Max needs a therapist who enjoys a challenge, she thinks to herself.
“Okay, cool. Just e-mail me. Thanks, Max,” she says with a half-hearted smile.
26
“Fuck…”
Lila peers up at him, straining to make out his features, half-lost in shadow.
Outside, the sky has already sunk into darkness, and the only light in the room comes from the TV’s harsh glow.
The sofa beneath them groans with every movement, its thin cushions long since flattened, the springs pressing painfully against her back.
Its weary protests mingle with the sounds spilling from their mouths.
Sweat beads across his forehead and chest as he drives into her.
The rhythm, the sensation—everything is the same as before, yet this time something is missing. Something feels lacking.
“Harder,” she moans, her legs locking around his waist as she pulls him closer, urging him deeper and faster. “Please, Jake.”
She wants nothing more in that moment than for him to grab her roughly, to take her with raw passion. The words stick in her throat.
She wonders what he would think if the innocent girl he’d been dating for years suddenly showed him how dark her wanting really goes.
“Do you want it rougher, Lila?” he asks with a teasing grin. “How about this?”
He thrusts his hips into her harder, but it still doesn’t quite scratch the itch she longs for. Her neck feels too exposed, and there’s a strange yearning for him to pull her hair.
She nods, telling herself the awkwardness must come from it being their first time together again after so long.
Soon, he finishes and pulls out. He strips off the condom, the latex coated in their shared wetness, and lets it fall into the nearby trash.
“Oof. Maybe we shouldn’t have done that right after eating,” he groans, patting his stomach. Instead of a traditional Thanksgiving spread, Jake had ordered a greasy bucket of fried chicken with a couple of sides, the paper containers still sprawled across the coffee table.
They settle side by side on the secondhand loveseat—he naked from the waist down, while she stays fully dressed. She can’t shake the faint disappointment, the dull ache between her thighs reminding her of how much more she had wanted from him.
“Fried chicken is a well-known aphrodisiac. Didn’t you know?” she teases, scooting closer. “Aren’t you, like, a certified doctor now?”
Jake laughs. “Oh yeah, totally. I must’ve skipped that chapter in med school. All that grease really gets one going.” He grins, nuzzling into the crook of her covered neck.
“Today has been amazing…” He pulls back slightly. “Are you not hot? You sure you don’t want to take your top off, at least?”
She stiffens. The knitted turtleneck crop top does feel a bit stifling, but it also hides the bruises on her neck. Despite his continual encouragement to strip down, she’d rather be a little warm than risk exposing herself.
“I’m fine,” she murmurs, nervously tugging at the hem of her miniskirt. “Why? Don’t you like my outfit? I thought it was really cute.”
Jake leans in, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of her head.
“It really is. You always look so damn cute.” He pauses, studying her.
“When I said you look different, I meant it. There’s something different about you.
” He dips down, inhaling the sweet scent of her neck.
“Something sexy. It’s driving me crazy.”
Heat still courses through her, sparking a want she can’t ignore. She imagines him on top of her again, pressing into her, pinning her arms to her sides.
“Hey…” she murmurs, inching closer.
Her phone suddenly chimes beside her.
She glances at the screen and nearly jumps out of her skin.
“Hi.”
Her heart lurches violently as Max’s name appears. Nerves and curiosity surge through her, mingling with an unexpected jolt of joy. Before she can even process the first message, another notification pings—a second text.
“Happy Thanksgiving! :)”
Then a third.
“My mother decided to cook the turkey herself this year, and it turned out dry as fuck. If only you were here to suffer through it with me. :(”
She lets out a small giggle, the urge to respond almost irresistible.
She knows better.
Engaging with him now would be like playing with fire—a reckless game that could only leave her burned.
Jake shifts beside her to grab the remote, and she quickly dismisses the messages. She glances at him, his eyes fixed on the TV as he scrolls through streaming services, searching for another movie.
No new messages appear, much to her relief. Lila relaxes her shoulders and unclenches her jaw.
Her gaze drifts around Jake’s apartment, noting the new additions among the familiar remnants from before their breakup.
A throw blanket lies rumpled on the floor beside the secondhand loveseat.
There’s a bit of disorder, but otherwise, his one-bedroom apartment is neat and organized.
Mismatched plates and plastic cups clutter the coffee table, not a single coaster in sight.
There’s a comforting, lived-in warmth here.
Inside Jake’s unit, his personality shines through in the familiar, colorful posters of his favorite superheroes and bands.
They still hang proudly on the walls, but now they’re framed in thick black borders, evenly spaced instead of plastered up with thumbtacks in a haphazard line.
His prized G.I. Joe collectibles line the shelves, each figure meticulously arranged above his old textbooks, just as before.
When she looks back at him and studies his profile, she realizes Jake is still her sweet nerd.
An hour into a B-rated horror film, Jake suddenly stands up in frustration.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Don’t go back in there!” he shouts at the screen, booing as the character decides to reenter the house she barely escaped. “Go get actual help! What the fuck!”
Lila chuckles at his animated reaction, her soft laughter nearly swallowed by the film’s loud, suspenseful music. As her eyes return to the television, her thoughts drift to someone else—someone who can be just as dramatic, though he harbors an unexpected love for romantic movies instead.
Suddenly, her phone erupts with a persistent ring, cutting through the scene of the killer stalking the main character. The jarring sound startles them both.
Her heart pounds as she fumbles for the phone while Jake pauses the movie. The ringtone seems unbearably loud in the darkened room.
Shit.
Max is calling her.
She immediately rejects the call, but the ringing lingers in her ears. Then, one call becomes many. She rejects them again and again until she finally switches her phone to silent.
Then come the voicemail notifications—one after another, suffocating her. And yet, some traitorous part of her aches to hear his voice again.
“Who keeps calling you?” Jake asks, leaning over her shoulder.
“No one!” she replies too quickly. She tosses her phone aside and adjusts the throw blanket draped over her lap. “I’ve been getting a lot of spam calls.”
“Oh, man. I hate those.”
“Me too. They’re relentless.”
To divert his attention, she slips into a playful tone. “How about we go for a second round…?”
“Does watching slasher flicks turn you on?” Jake teases, making her roll her eyes. Still, she can’t help but smile.
“Where is this coming from? I don’t remember you being this horny. I mean, you were—but not like this.” He grins, meeting her gaze. “I wonder what happened in the past year,” he adds, teasing again.
She freezes, eyes widening as her breath catches painfully in her throat.
“Nothing,” she says, her voice a little too shrill for her liking. “I’m just… happy we’re spending time together again.”
She wonders if he can tell—if all that recent, heavy intimacy with Max has altered something in her, something Jake can sense.
“Well, uh, I’m happy too,” he says carefully, “but I don’t have any more condoms.” His smile fades slightly, his tone turning cautious.
Her expression darkens instantly, anger flashing in her eyes. “Oh, like you had a whole fucking pack, but you went through it all because you had so many bitches?”
“Nope. Not doing this.” His voice turns cold as his gaze shifts back to the TV, his lips pressing into a thin line.
“You’ve been with other people, haven’t you?” she presses.
At that exact moment, the actress on screen lets out a blood-curdling scream, amplifying the tension in the room.