Chapter 21 #2
“Oh, I’m sorry. Next time, I’ll be sure to call first.”
I shoot him a dirty look, then turn back to my canvas.
He doesn’t get it, and he never will.
Ethan loves me, and I betrayed him.
He was just upset, caught up in the moment and hurt. He’d never actually hurt me.
But I don’t waste my breath saying any of this to him, because he’ll never understand. He had his mind made up about Ethan from the moment he met him.
“So, that’s it?” His voice cracks. “That’s all you have to say to me?”
“Don’t do this,” I whisper, feeling his pain like my own as I try to focus on my painting, torn between pushing him away and pulling him in.
“Do what? Try and figure out why my best friend is suddenly ghosting me over defending her? Or why she would allow someone?anyone?to treat her like anything less than the queen she is?”
I roll my eyes. “Please. I have Ethan, and I’m fortunate that he still wants to be with me after my unhinged best friend put his fist through his nose.”
Brandon laughs, but there’s nothing happy about the sound. “Come to think of it, you were ignoring me before I paid your man a little visit.” He narrows his eyes on me, and I avoid his gaze. “So, what gives? Did he demand you stay away from me?”
His words hit a little too close to home for comfort.
I shift in my seat and scan the room, searching for an escape as I say, “I can’t have this conversation right now.”
“Well too damn bad.”
My gaze jerks to his, and all the frustration and anger and confusion from the last few weeks come to a boiling point, spilling over like an overfilled pot. “You don’t get to come in here and make demands.”
“Tatum, I’m going crazy here . . .”
His voice is desperate, his expression pleading as our eyes collide, and it’s almost enough to make me crack.
To make me forget why I ever started avoiding him in the first place.
Why I thought spending all my free time with him is so wrong when it feels so right.
Like coming home. Like tea and honey. Cider on a crisp autumn day.
Warm sweaters in the winter and popsicles in the summer.
All my favorite things wrapped into one.
I need him to leave me alone, because I’m not sure I’m strong enough to stay away.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t be your friend anymore,” I whisper, my voice catching over the words, “and I’m certainly not your girlfriend.”
He flinches beside me, wasting no time when he says, “What the fuck are you saying? You’re my best friend, Tatum.”
I say nothing, biting my tongue as I glance away from him. I don’t trust myself to speak any more than I trust myself to look into his eyes and walk away.
“Tate, would you please look at me?”
My stomach sours at the plea in his voice.
I shake my head, a trembling breath escaping when I part my lips.
“I can’t do this anymore. Things are changing.
I’m going to be transferring next semester, and I’m in a serious relationship, one I see going beyond college.
This was bound to happen sooner or later.
Assaulting Ethan was simply the final straw because the truth is, we’re not eleven years old anymore, and it’s just not appropriate for us to be spending so much time together.
It’s not normal to be this reliant on a friend. ”
“Not normal?” he chokes out. “What the hell are you talking about? We’ve been like this for years.
We do everything together. We always have.
We read each other’s thoughts, finish each other’s sentences.
That’s what best friends do. I get that you have to share your time now; I do.
But that doesn’t mean this, we”—he points between us—“have to end.”
I grit my teeth, saying nothing.
Maybe if I ignore him, he’ll give up and go away.
“The Tate I know would never give us up.” Brandon stands, rounding the table until he’s in front of me. Bending over the table, he presses both hands on either side of me, caging me in as my heart bucks wildly in my chest. “Which means he’s making you choose. Admit it.”
“No,” I say, hating the way my voice shakes, the way my pulse quickens.
A low growl rumbles in the back of his throat, tearing through my chest like a wild animal and sinking low in my belly before inconveniently wedging itself between my legs.
He has that look on his face?the one he gets on the football field when he’s hell-bent on an interception. I’ve never noticed how hot he is when he’s pissed, and the timing of it now is inconvenient to say the least.
“Look me in the eye, Tate. Look me in the fucking eye and tell me he’s not the real reason you’re pushing me away?”
“It’s complicated.”
“That’s not an answer.” He reaches out, lifting my chin gently with his fingers until our eyes meet.
My gaze drops to his mouth?to the infinitesimal space between us, and my stomach drops.
“Did he give you an ultimatum?” Brandon presses.
I bite my lower lip, hoping he can’t read the answer in my eyes because it’s not like that. Ethan wasn’t trying to control me. He’s not the villain in this story no matter how much Brandon would like him to be. He only wants what’s best for me—for us.
“This is a decision we made together,” I say, lifting my chin.
“Fuck that.”
My hands shake as I drop my paintbrush on the table. I can’t breathe with him looking at me like this. Like I’m his whole world, and I’m completely breaking his heart, when all we’ve ever been to each other is friends.
Unable to take any more, I rise to my feet and take a step back, sucking in a lungful of Brandonless air like a beached fish, suddenly thrust back into the water.
“Tate . . .” He reaches out, but I’m already moving.
I make a beeline for the bathroom when his hands spin me around, his gaze searching my face for a solution I can’t give. “He’s all I need,” I say, begging him to stop.
“Is that what he tells you?” he asks, equal parts fear and anger laced in the deep tenor of his voice. “That he should be all you need?”
He makes it sound like a bad thing, like Ethan’s devotion to me is something toxic, rather than something to be cherished.
I shrug his hands off my arms, desperate for an escape. “That’s how relationships work.” The words leave my mouth at the same time my phone rings.
I slide it out, grateful for the distraction when I see Ethan’s name flashing across the screen.
“Answer it,” Brandon says, a knowing look on his face. “I’ll wait.”
I shake my head as icy fingers claw my chest.
What would Ethan think if he knew I was here talking to Brandon?
“I need to go,” I say, and then disappear into the bathroom where I lock myself inside.