Silly girl, no way, it was his hands. Squeezing and bruising and pushing and pulling. Or maybe his shoulders, so broad under her own hands. Or his back. His chest. His whole body.
His everything.
“Ari.”
She'd whispered his name, and yet she felt like the sound of her voice echoed all around her, saying so much more than just his name. He froze in her arms, then lifted his head to look down at her.
“Don't,” he spoke softly, and her eyes teared up.
He knows. Somewhere deep down, he had to know this was coming. I'm so sorry, Ari.
“I have to go home now,” she breathed, her teeth starting to chatter. He shook his head.
“This isn't your home.”
“This has been my home for over six months.”
“It's not your home,” he insisted. “Your grandmother is gone, she was the only thing keeping you here.”
“Exactly – she was the only thing keeping me in this lifestyle,” she added to his statement. He shook his head.
“Don't do this, Valentine. It's not right.”
“I ...” she shook her head, hoping it would help settle her thoughts. “I've been thinking a lot.”
He pulled away from her so quickly, she gasped as the cold air invaded the space between them.
“Which means bad news for me. This shit you have in that brain of yours,” he growled. “What have you convinced yourself of now? I'm a liar? I'm an asshole? Always convicting me without letting me defend myself.”
Valentine quickly shook her head and stepped towards him.
“No, that's not what's happening. You're ... jesus, I never thought I'd say something like this, but you're a great guy, Ari, I -”
“If I'm so 'great', then what's the fucking problem?” he snapped. “I saved you. I took care of you. I do everything for you, and it's still not enough.”
She took a deep breath.
“It's not,” she agreed softly. “And you are a great guy. Just not great for me.”
“Jesus christ. Next thing you're going to say is 'we can still be friends', right? I don't want to be your fucking friend, Valentine.”
“Then what do you want, Ari?” she asked, throwing up her hands. “A fuck buddy? A puppet? A whore?
“You know that's not what I want.”
“No, you just want someone who's 'up to snuff',” she used his words against him. The anger in his eyes went from a simmer to a full boil.
“Do not use his words against me,” he snapped. “I am not my father. I told you I was working on it, I told you I was going to introduce you two. You want everything to happen now, but what about what I want?”
“What do you want?” she cried again. “Do you even know? Is it even me? Or is it just the idea of me?”
“That is such a fucking girl thing to say,” he snarled. She blinked away tears and bent over, unzipping her backpack and yanking stuff out of it.
“This isn't me,” she told him, standing upright and tugging at her sleeves. He looked at her like she was insane as she pulled her arms free of the sleeves, the dress barely clinging to the tips of her breasts. Then she pulled a ratty hoodie over her head and jerked it into place. The dress fell loose while she moved, and soon enough it was puddled at her feet.
“Have you gone insa-”
“And these aren't me,” she continued, taking off her earrings and dropping them to the ground. “And not these.” Her shoes were yanked off next, with some difficulty. While she was still bent over, she pulled a pair of harem sweatpants out of her bag and put them on, quickly followed by a well worn pair of Vans slip-ons. “None of this.” She threw her hair pins across the sidewalk, then yanked her hair up into a mess bun. “And least of all this.” For her final act, she took out a bag of wipes and deftly pulled one free of the pack, roughly rubbing it across her face. She knew she probably looked like the Joker when she was done, but it was good enough. “This is not me, Ari.” She tossed the balled up wipe at his chest, watched as the blotchy tissue fell to the ground.
“What exactly are you trying to say?” he asked, looking at the mess around their feet.
“I'm saying that this is me,” she said, gesturing to her homeless-chic outfit first, and then her house. “That is me. Everything else is pretend, and this is the real Val. A woman your dad will never approve of, which means ultimately, you'll never approve of.”
Ari's face looked pained.
“I've always approved of you,” he insisted. “I'm just asking for a little time.”
“Time is up, Ari,” she sighed. “I fought a losing battle with my grandmother. I'm ... I'm not willing to fight another one for you.”
Harsh words, but they needed to be said. He wasn't saying the words she needed to hear from him, so she would have to say the words she needed to hear from herself.
He glared down the length of his nose at her, then stood up straight, pulling himself to his full height. An intimidation tactic he used often; she wondered if he knew it had the opposite effect on her. She loved his height and his stature and his presence, and god, this was even harder than she thought it would be.
“Are you call me a lost cause, Valentine?” he asked. She took a deep breath.
I'm calling you weak. I'm calling you lost. I'm begging you to fight for me. To stand up for me. To stand up for yourself.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I am. Thank you for everything you've done for me, Ari. I can't even tell you how much I appreciate it. And I ... I really hope you get what you want out of life. I really, really do.”
“You mean, you hope I get what you think I want,” he said in a low, angry voice. She shrugged her shoulders.
“Whatever makes this situation easier for you.”
Ari swallowed thickly and glared down the street. Valentine refused to look anywhere but his face. At his angry blue eyes. Such blue eyes. Ocean eyes. His eyebrows were thunderous above them, the same shade of perfect blonde as the perfect hair on his perfect head. As the perfect stubble starting to show on his perfect jawline.
“I want you to know,” he spoke slowly, still refusing to look at her. “I think this is a bad idea.”
“Duly noted,” she nodded. “And I would like to point out that if you put together all the time we've known each other, most of it was spent having sex, making deals, or not speaking to each other. I'm not the girl for you, Ari. I was just a good time. I was just ... Saint Valentine.”
I hate Saint Valentine.
“You're so stupid,” he breathed. “You were so much more than that.”
She wiped away more tears and went to respond, but before she could, Ari was moving. Bending over and picking her pack up off the ground. He shoved it into her arms, then stood back from her.
“Are we done here?” he asked. She was a little stunned.
“I ... I guess so,” she stammered. “Ari, I -”
“If there's nothing I can do to convince of how absolutely fucking wrong you are,” he talked over her. “Then we really are done. I have an early meeting tomorrow.”
“With your father,” she guessed. It was a low blow, but his attitude stung. She hadn't said or done anything to be intentionally cruel, so she didn't feel like his anger at her was justified.