Chapter 7
Chapter seven
Jett
I take a few deep breaths as we stare into one another. Searching for where to go from here, I'm trying to keep the dissonance bubbling up inside me at bay.
I confessed that I love her, and she's still trying to fight me.
Fight us.
I wouldn't be as hurt if I didn't feel it in my bones, down to my core, that her feelings are the fucking same. But the thing is, I do.
She denies her love for me and continues to lie to herself, but I feel it—in her tender touch, in her kisses that say more than her words ever do.
I feel it in her gaze, how she looks me over longingly, and how she lights up when she's in my presence.
I even feel it in the way she speaks to me, and the words she doesn't say.
I wasn't looking for love. Hell, I barely knew I was capable of emotion besides what I feel for my family. She changed that simply by being herself, by merely existing.
When we first started this, whatever this is, she made me agree to keep things casual. Casual is typically my thing, so I agreed and told her it was all I wanted too. I guess that makes us both liars because the thing is, it was never casual for me with her.
I had feelings for her before we even began.
How could I not? It's as if who she is at the center of her soul was intricately designed just for me.
She does everything she can to undermine the bond we've built over the past year or so. It's infuriating.
Tears slowly trickle down her face, and a piece of my heart breaks. My entire body stiffens in awareness as I watch her. Alarm bells are blaring in my mind, telling me I've done it. I've scared her off.
I step toward her, inching slowly, and I reach out to wipe her tears away. Before I can, she retreats.
"You promised you wouldn't fall in love with me. You knew from the beginning I didn't want that." Her voice is low, and each word comes out strained as if it hurts her.
She's pulling away.
"I call bullshit," I say pointedly.
She scoffs as her eyebrows pinch together in a scowl of disgust.
I take another step forward. She takes another step backward.
Oh, so we're going to do this dance?
Trying hard to believe her own words, she mutters, "It isn't bullshit. I told you from the beginning—"
"Who gives a fuck what was said in the beginning? The beginning doesn't matter. What about the in-between?” My words spew harshly, my tone laced with every emotion swirling inside me.
She shakes her head, deflecting her gaze as our dance ends. I reach her, wrapping her in my arms, and she melts into me, as if the world's weight is being lifted off her shoulders, like she does every time.
"I'm not just talking about what your mind is saying. I want to know what your heart says," I whisper into her ear, placing a hand over her chest, directly over her heart. Her eyes flash briefly to mine, and it's at that moment she allows me to see all the pain she hides so well.
"You love me, Izabel,” I continue. “I know that scares you. Love is scary. Hell, life itself is scary, but what is life without a little risk and fear? Sounds pretty damn boring to me."
"It isn't that simple. None of this is simple," she whispers, barely audible, and there's pain laced into every word that leaves her perfectly full lips.
She buries her face into my chest, nails biting into my skin.
One of my hands runs through her hair as the other traces patterns on her back, soothing her.
As she pulls back from me and out of my grasp, her eyes meet mine. I could get lost in those emerald depths. Tear-stained and all, they're perfect, just like her.
"I don't think it's supposed to be easy.
It's just supposed to be worth it. Am I worth it to you, Iz?
" It's a question, but I feel more like I'm begging her to take this leap with me.
With her answer, she holds a power over me that I've never allowed any other human to possess.
She holds the power to obliterate my heart. That knowledge terrifies me.
Her head falls as she turns and walks over to the bed, taking a seat on its edge. I pad over, sitting next to her, but keep a little bit of distance between us.
My eyes find hers. “Answer me, damn it. Am I worth it to you, Iz?”
Ever so softly, she sighs and shakes her head, more in avoidance of the question than an actual answer.
Always avoiding, never actually dealing with shit. I’m a patient man, and for her I’ll stay a patient man. Doesn’t mean I won’t push, and push hard as fuck.
So I press her, "If you can’t even answer me, then can you at least tell me, where the hell would you like us to stand?"
"Exactly where we stood before.”
I scoff. “Which is?”
“Fuck buddies, friends with benefits, mutual sex fiends. Take your pick.”
I shake my head, biting back a chuckle. Even when tearing out my heart, this girl can make me laugh.
“Nothing has to change," she adds, forcing a slight smile that doesn't meet her eyes, as if begging me to accept her offer.
Shit. Well, like I said, I’m a patient fucking man that isn’t going anywhere.
I let out a long, heavy sigh. “Yeah, sure. Nothing has to change,” I say, repeating the lie as a low mumble, frustration evident in my tone.
“Good... That’s good,” Izzy says, nodding her head, clearly ignoring my apparent irritations, which only heightens them.
While I’m annoyed with her constant avoidance, I’ll continue to play along if that’s what’s necessary to keep her.
She may think nothing has to change.
The thing is, for me, everything already has.