20. Twelve Fuckers #3
Anders assess me carefully, like he’s still trying to feel things out. Like he still has hope.
He can’t. I know what he wants and I can’t give him that.
My jaw clenches. “Now.”
I can already feel this becoming something uncontrollable.
Anders studies my face for another long second before something content settles over his expression. Which somehow makes me feel sick to my stomach.
And then he leans into my ear. “You don’t have to look so scared of me,” he says quietly. “I won’t tell anybody what you did.”
I almost laugh. My entire body flashes with dread.
It’s not that I’m scared of him. I’m scared of myself around him because I can’t trust myself not to hurt him. There’s a major difference between the two.
He reaches up and smooths a hand briefly over my chest before stepping back. The loss of contact feels painfully immediate. I hold my breath as I watch him button his jeans back up with a pleased look in his eyes.
Like he’s just fine with this…or maybe he already expected things to end like this before it even happened.
He’s not arguing. He’s actually listening.
Without another word, he turns toward the stairs.
I won’t tell anybody what you did. I won’t tell anybody what you did. I won’t tell anybody what you did.
Fuck. Panic surges through me so fast it’s almost embarrassing.
“Anders, wait.”
He pauses halfway through turning around. I move before I can think better of it, immediately cupping his jaw with a little urgency.
This is wrong. I can’t have him. I shouldn’t want him.
But he’s too okay with this. He walked off like it meant nothing. Like I mean nothing to him.
“What?” He snaps a little, narrowing his eyes. “I thought it was bed time.”
I open my mouth to speak, then close it. What do I even say? I should’ve just let him go.
“Speak,” he demands. “Quit wasting my time.”
“I’m not—”
He bites down on his bottom lip without even realizing, and for a good five seconds it’s the only thing I can focus on.
I’m disgusting. Maybe that’s what finally breaks something open inside me.
I don’t want anyone else to have this. I don’t care if I can’t…the thought of another man getting to watch Anders doing such a simple thing sends an uncontrollable rage through me.
Closing my eyes, I exhale through my nose and lean in with a hardened look on my face. And then I just about fucking lose it.
“I can’t give you what you want,” I say with complete honesty, sweeping my thumb across his lip. “But I won’t stand here and watch another man take my place.”
We’re both silent for a beat. Anders’s expression hardens as he processes whatever the hell I just said.
Finally, he lets out a nasty laugh. “Your place?” His brows pull together. “What are you?”
I hesitate. “We’re…friends.” My words come out unconfident.
We’re friends. That’s all we can be.
“Friends aren’t controlling,” he points out, closing his hand around my wrist and tearing my hand away. “Friends don’t do what you just did.”
“We,” I correct automatically. “What we did.”
He narrows his eyes. “No, Parker.” His tone is completely insistent now. “What you did.”
“Wha—”
Anders shoves me away and scoffs thinly. “You’re such a fuckin’ hypocrite.”
“What?”
“It’s always my fault when you kiss me,” he hisses. “But the moment you do something, Pet’ka, it’s the both of us.”
I hate the way he’s looking at me right now. His eyes are darkened with disdain, and the worst part about it is that he’s right. Because admitting it out loud means it’s true. It places the blame on me, which is the thing I’ve been skirting around since the first goddamn time we kissed.
“You’re right.” I swipe my hand down my face.
His eyes flicker, looking me up and down. For a minute, he doesn’t say anything. He just gets lost in thought.
“Friends,” he finally says, nodding like he’s conceding. But he isn’t.
“I don’t want to be friends, Parker. You know what I want.”
I shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut and pinching the bridge of my nose. “I know, but—”
Anders rolls his eyes. “You don’t know anything.” He exhales sharply. “And I think you’re genuinely, like, evil,” Anders snaps. “I’m not a little kid anymore. You don’t get to fuck around and expect me to be okay with it…” He swipes a hand down his face, squaring his shoulders. “Fuck.”
The look he gives me almost kills me.
“If you’re so gung ho on being my friend, then that’s fine…I know you don’t have that many, so maybe it’ll be good for you.”
This isn’t…Anders. This is someone entirely different.
Each word stabs right through my chest, and my mind is scrambling to figure out why this…man standing in my kitchen has taken control of Anders’ body.
“If you can’t give me what I want, then that’s okay, too…but this—” He gestures up and down his body. “No touching. No kissing. You don’t get to have both anymore because I’m done putting up with your fucking bullshit, Parker.”
Not a single word comes to me. I just stand and blink at him like I’m going brain-dead.
He holds a hand up to me and gives me a black look. “Thanks for the blowjob, Petchka. I’m going to bed now.”
And then he just walks off.