43. Because The Night #2
My tongue’s swelling, making it harder to control the breakdown happening inside me. “Last time a man tried to claim me? I got him locked up. Wanna try that again?”
His expression hardens,
reminding me this isn’t a game.
“Nah. I don’t. You’re mine.
“Not mine like possession.
“Mine like my fuckin’ person.
“Mine like I’d swing on anyone who hurts you or takes you from me. Mine like no one’s fuckin’ touchin’ you.”
He grips me tighter,
pulls me back into him,
holds my gaze—
“You're mine, like I’m yours.”
I look at him,
mouth shut,
heart screaming.
He waits for me to come back with a smart-ass comment.
His gaze lowers to my mouth,
sees it isn’t moving.
“You got nothin’ now, huh?” He nods. “Aight, then I’m gonna keep goin’ with it and say that I ain’t stupid, Allison. I know how you’re wired. You warned me you’d fuck up. I’m still here. But I need you in this with me, need you to try. Honest, no bullshit.”
His eyes shift between mine, more nervous. “My whole life’s been full’a nothin’ but cheatin’. That’s not gonna be us. I know you want the same—I know it. So if you fuck up, and it’s killin’ you to tell me, just tell me. Be honest with me. We handle our shit together. That’s it.”
I’m stone, showing no emotion.
All my chaos’s hiding under my skin.
Somehow I’m still here too.
Still looking at him.
Though I want to break down and cry.
But I keep standing.
And he keeps going,
“All your ex Boys? Ben? That new fucker you just brought on? They’re not touchin’ you. No one else. Not anywhere.
“All of you’s mine now.
“I’m the only one you go to.”
I’m breaking out into a cold sweat.
“And the last?” I grind out.
He breathes it out, “One bed, Allison.”
It goes so silent between us,
I hear my pulse drumming in my ears.
“If I’m the only one, you’ll want me livin’ with you. But I ain't leavin’ my moms to sleep in your Boys’ hall. I’m not playin’ that game. It’s either your bed every night... Or you come live with me.”
The stillness rushes back in.
His guarded gaze pins me to the quiet, waiting to see if I’m about to hand it all back to him.
There’s a searing ocean I’m fighting behind my eyes.
If I agree, it’s only him—
a human who could change his mind,
walk out on me at any second.
If I don’t agree, I’ll never see him again.
I don’t know which one scares me more.
From the jukebox, piano trickles through the room, drums chasing after it, “Because the Night” rising from the corner.
My heart tries to match the beat of it to keep from skipping.
Or stopping altogether.
Time’s stretching.
My chest’s shrinking.
I look past Andrew’s shoulder, where a girl sneaks a picture, the back camera of her phone aimed at us.
I step back.
He stands taller. “Allison—”
I step back again. “I just—”
I scan the room.
All their eyes are clawing at my skin, peeling me off him in their heads.
“I need a second. Outside.”
Then I’m halfway across the building, my legs carrying me out from under his gaze.
I push the door open.
The cold rushes across my face—the iron, metallic taste of the Hudson laced in the air, with the smell of sausage and peppers from the cart on the corner.
“Because the Night” dies behind me,
fades away as the door closes.
I get two steps far when the hinges groan open, and the electric guitar balloons behind me again.
He’s already at my side,
sneakers hitting the concrete.
“Allison.”
Only my name makes it out.
He holds the rest in his mouth,
afraid if he says more, I’ll bolt.
I pass the Christmas lights strung along the pool hall’s front window, sucking in the biting air, my breath fogging between us.
I can't look him in the eyes.
I keep mine locked on the ground he's standing on.
His hips. His hands.
Anywhere but up.
He turns, glancing over his shoulder toward the street, where cars blow past. Then back at me, stepping closer. “C’mon, talk to me.”
A laugh rips out of me,
annoyed and echoing off brick.
I fucked another guy to hand Andrew a reason to never come back. To swim out of the deep end 'cause it was getting too fucking scary.
But here's Andrew,
wanting to lock me down
harder than ever before.
“Talk to you?” I say, snapping my eyes to his, and he rubs a palm over the back of his neck. “Okay.” I nod. “Fine. Here’s me talking: I fucked another guy not even twenty-four hours after fucking you—fucked him, Drew,” I say slow. “As in his cock was inside me.”
He rips off his glasses, presses the heel of his palm between his brows, picturing it in his head all over again.
“Jesus Christ—yeah. I know.
“I should walk.
“I should fuckin’ walk, Allison.
“But I can’t.
“You know that. You fuckin’ know it.
“That’s how fucked I am for you.”
He pushes his glasses back on,
lays a hand on his chest, and leans in,
his stare holding mine hostage.
“But that fucker didn’t take shit from me. Not a damn thing. Might’ve meant somethin’ to him. It didn’t to you. I know that it didn’t—”
“How do you know—”
“‘Cause I just fuckin’ do!”
And all of Hoboken snaps to silence.
His chest rises and falls fast and unsteady. He wets his bottom lip as he looks down at me.
“I just know, Allison. Okay?
“I look into your eyes. And I just know.”
He stands there, confident as hell, eyes terrified he’s wrong, wanting to believe that nothing can tear this thing apart.
Not even me.
I don’t stop there, “Now you’re sayin’ if I say no, what? You’re gone? You’re out? Just like that.” My brows are so high they’re passing Cobain a joint. “I tried to walk away from this. Weeks ago. Many times,” I say, then point at him. “You stopped me. You begged me. You asked for the contract.
“You sat on it. You stalled.
“And while you’re stalling,
“I’m goin’ to Thanksgiving.
“Meeting your family.
“Kissing you. Fucking you.
“Letting you in deeper.
“And now it’s too late.”
My arms drop,
palms slapping my thighs.
“Now I’m feelin’ some dirty-ass fuckin’ shit for you,” I say, my voice collapsing under the weight of the words.
“Some fucked-up, please-don’t-leave-me feelings kinda shit I never wanted.
And you’re telling me this now? Tellin’ me—nah, not signing your contract.
Givin’ me an ultimatum? After all that?”
Cold wind blows past,
taking my hair with it.
I hold it back, chained to his gaze.
“Tell me that wasn’t the plan all along, Andrew. Tell me that ain’t some messed up bullshit—”
His hand comes out between us, cutting me off. “Wait. Hold up—stop, stop. Stop right fuckin’ there.”
He drags his hand over his stunned smile. Then he lifts two fingers off his grin.
“Do you hear yourself right now?”
My stare trips over the shock sitting on his face. “What, Drew—what?”
He closes the space, voice dropping soft and gentle. “Allison. You just admitted you got feelings for me.”
My head tips back a hair,
and I laugh. “No, I didn’t.”
Bro hears whatever gives his heart a boner.
He squints one eye.
“Uh, yeah, you did—first time you ever said that shit out loud to me. Some please-don’t-leave-me feelings kinda shit?”
Okay. Fine.
I can see how he got ‘feelings’ outta that,
but still.
“Don’t even go there. Not what I meant.
“I don’t fall into feelings—”
He tsks. “Yeah, yeah, you don’t fall.
“You spiral. Straight into me.
“Like a fuckin’ corkscrew—
“can’t ever pull yourself outta it.”
I shove his shoulder,
and his smile spreads,
starting in his eyes,
then taking his whole face with it.
“Well, guess what,” he murmurs, drawing closer. “I got some feelings for you, too.” He wets his lip with a weak shrug. “Some I’m-not-okay-without-you feelings kinda shit.”
His words attack me.
Like I heard them,
but now I hear them.
And somehow that’s different.
I said those same words the night we first met. “You actually remember what I said? At Type? About the song? About Angel?”
His thumbs hook into the waistband of my skirt, yanking me in as if he can’t stand the gap. “Yeah, Allison. Everything. Always.”
My smile hangs on my face.
He remembers everything.
He wants to build a new contract together.
He wants to sleep together every night.
What the actual fuck is happening?