Chapter Nineteen
TYLER
I still have the taste of her on my tongue, the smell of her on my clothes, my skin. A shower will practically be an impossible task at this point. I refuse to destroy any remnants of evidence of what happened.
Her final words before we faced our family plays over and over in my mind. To be continued.
I’d forgotten what it was like to simply want to kiss, to make out and enjoy that act alone. I could have spent all night making out like two teenagers. Fuck. I forgot how kissing could be so good.
It's always been a prologue, a necessary step towards the ultimate thing I wanted. Any kissing I’ve done as an adult has simply been a means to an end, an introduction to sex rather than what it is.
But it’s her.
I can kiss Sunny all night, until our lips are raw and we are suffocating for air. If that’s how death greets me, I’d go with a smile on my face.
As we sit at Martha’s, I can feel the weight of our moment, this now secret, weighing heavy over us.
I kissed Sunny.
The memories of our night invade my mind, I have to shift in my seat just to adjust the damn hard on I can’t fucking get rid of.
I kissed Sunny.
She’s leaving, and I’m only growing deeper feelings for her. Maybe I’m just a rebound, but I don’t care. I’ll be anything for her if it means I get to have her and somehow make her mine.
I watch as she plays pool with Sam and Cole, as if our lips and hands weren’t exploring one another just a mere hour ago. The remnants are still there—messed hair, swollen lips and hazy eyes.
I did that.
As though she feels my eyes on her, through that soul-bridge between us, she flicks her gaze to me. A whisper of a smile plays on her lips.
I think you like me, Sunny.
Something glimmers along that connection between us. An unspoken thing that somehow seems to scream so loudly now. Something unseen, but feels too real to not exist.
Now that I have her, I can’t get enough of her. She’s been my obsession since the moment I laid eyes on her. But that obsession has rooted itself much deeper, and I won’t ever be able to escape. I never had plans to, anyways.
Every facet of my life now revolves around her. It is Sunny everything, everywhere, all the time. A dangerous line is being treaded here, but I truly don’t fucking care.
Because I kissed Sunny.
SUNNY
Laying in my bed, I stare at the twinkling lights I put up on move in day. Along with the glow in the dark stars that scatter my ceiling, compliments of Tyler from our day of shopping.
He said he always had them in his room growing up since stars were far and few in between in the city. He’d wished upon each one on his ceiling as a child—that he still does to this day. I wonder if he’s looking up at his right now, too.
My mind jumps from one thought to another. I count each light, each star, trying to distract my mind from earlier this evening in hopes it’ll be like counting sheep and send me to sleep.
I kissed Tyler. And I liked it.
Pressing my palms against my eyes, I groan as I shift in bed. Desire that shouldn’t be here takes over when I replay the way his hands felt against my skin and his tongue in my mouth tasted.
I knew something shifted that night he came over and read the whole book that still sits on my nightstand.
Just so that we could talk about it during our day of shopping.
I just didn’t realize how much things had changed.
While I try to deny the fact it’s more with him, the truth still whispers in my mind—it’s always more with him.
Continuing with Tyler would be selfish, considering I’m leaving. Ryan is alive, and I know in my very bones he is looking for me. His words were enough, but the tone that wrapped around each letter got the point across even further when I stepped out that door that night.
If you walk out that door and leave, I will find you.
It was just as much a threat as it was a promise he made to me.
Ryan is selfish for me, and he wants me back in his life, regardless of the fact he has no clue how to love me and that he hurt me. The better part of me tells me I need to have this discussion with Tyler to end things immediately. The immature part tells me to completely ignore it.
It has to be nothing.
I know deep in my heart that it’s so far from the truth.
Because I kissed Tyler, and I loved it.
I immediately sit up in a bed that isn’t mine, feeling my heart race as I grip the familiar gray blankets in my fist. Looking around the room, I realize I’m in my old apartment I shared with Ryan. My breath catches as the panic rises like bile in my throat.
“No,” I breathe.
Ryan walks out of the bathroom. “I missed you while you were sleeping,”
The look in his eyes tells me exactly what he wants as he crawls over to me in bed.
He always wants it. I used to find it endearing that he couldn't keep his hands off me, until one day he wouldn’t stop despite my protests.
He hovers over me, his dark brown curls falling in his face and his brown eyes fill with a terrifying hunger.
“Ryan, please,” I manage to croak through my panic.
“What? You don’t want to have sex with me?” he snaps and fear knots in my throat.
“I’m just really tired tonight,” I try to sound sweet as I caress his face. I have to comfort him and make it seem like I’m the problem. To him, I always am. Yet, somehow, always the solution too.
When he rolls off me, he makes it a point to express his anger in everything he does. A drawer being closed too hard. His footsteps stomping with more frustration. Doors slamming rather than closing. Tossing and turning in our bed with sighs of frustration.
“Why are you upset?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.
“You never want to have sex with me,” he snaps. “A man can only feel rejected for so long.”
“That’s not it, honey. I love you so much.”
His gaze softens. “Then show me how much you love me,” he whispers. “You know it puts me in a better mood.”
How am I back here? What the fuck happened? How am I with him again? This isn’t my apartment in the city. Reality and fallacy are melting into one, making it difficult to differentiate which one I’m in.
“I’m not really in the mood,” I admit.
“What if I get you in the mood?” he asks, pressing kisses down my neck while his hands roam my body without invitation.
The thing is, if I say no, the night will continue in this back and forth. However, if I fall victim to this manipulation, we’ll have a better night than the one that’s already happening.
I don’t say yes, and I don’t say no. To Ryan, this means a welcome invitation to my body.
I don’t fight him. Not when he pulls my pants down.
Not when he pushes into me, unaware of the silent tear spilling down my temple.
Not when he finishes and thinks I did too, making me feel like a tool for his pleasure.
“I love you sweetie,” he says, because he’s gotten what he wants. “How about I make us a snack or something?” He kisses my cheek. “I can bring it to bed for you!” He calls over his shoulder.
Why did I stay for so long?
He leaves me in bed, feeling used and violated while he goes into the other room and doesn’t come back for hours after. I roll on my side, squeezing my eyes shut as I work through the emptiness that has invaded my chest.
Wake up. Wake up. Wake up
I finally wake up.
When I sit up, I realize I’m crying. Shuffling out of bed, I run through my dark apartment, touching everything I can to know it's real.
I’m home.
Once I ground myself and make sure I’m where I think I am, I run to the bathroom and heave up everything in my stomach, sobbing into the bowl to the point I can’t breathe.
I sit on the bathroom floor, my body trembling with a thick sheen of sweat on my skin. I lean my head against the cold tub, trying to steady my breath and heart.
As soon as I start to think maybe, just maybe I can build a life elsewhere, even here, I’m reminded of why I can’t. Six months is already too long. I’d already made the mistake of staying too long once, I refuse to do it again.
Just like all relationships, we had the honeymoon phase for years, and then it just became a snowball effect. Each little thing he did piled onto the next until it all became too big and exploded in my face.
I spent so much time in school, getting my degree, then getting my experience, that it was easier to stay than leave.
It was easy to brush off the things he did in the name of not being able to spend time together or as often or the stress of tight finances.
The stress we both had of work, school, and life balance.
Of course, I justified the bad times with the good. Of course I told myself I was overreacting. Of course I said maybe, just maybe if I fulfilled his needs he’d treat me better. Of course I made up every excuse under the sun as to why I should stay and why I shouldn’t leave.
Finally, pulling myself off the cold bathroom floor, I rinse my face and mouth off. One glance in the mirror tells me I’m right back where I started when I first came to the city.
Last I heard, Ryan is all the way across the country.
Still, before I go back to bed, I check every window and lock twice. Then, I grab my gun I keep in my nightstand, and sleep with it under my pillow instead.