Is that what I've been doing to Colton? He deserves better than that. He also deserves a girl who isn’t going to block him every time he tries to reach out to make things right.
Shit. I fucked up.
I was an emotional wreck from dealing with Mom’s hurt and instead of handling it like a normal person, I turned my back and ran.
What must he think? I kept walking away from him, too afraid to let him touch me but he would never hurt me and I know that with absolute certainty.
I let out a heavy breath and finish putting the dishes away. It’s time to go home.
The bathroom door opens and I turn around to face Nic as he pulls his shirt down over his body. I meet his eyes and give him a tight smile and in an instant, he knows. “No,” he says, shaking his head. “You’re not leaving yet. I only just got you back.”
“Nic,” I sigh. “Bellevue Springs is my home now. It’s where I go to school, where my mom is, my friends, it’s where Colton is. I can’t just sit back here and pretend that I’m not neglecting all of that, and besides, after the bullshit that went down between me and Mom, it’s about time that I go back there and make it right.”
“I thought you and your mom sorted things out?”
“We did,” I tell him. “But it’s not the same as sitting down and talking it all through. She just found out that her baby was raped and hasn't had a chance to squish me in her arms yet. I know that’s got to be killing her.”
“Babe,” he says, walking around to the kitchen and standing right before me. “Just stay a little while longer. You can get that chick from school to email you the work you missed and I don’t know … Facetime with your mom or something. Just don’t go yet. It’s already halfway through the week. You might as well stay until the weekend and then I'll drive you back.”
“Nic … no. I need to go home.”
Nic steps into me, forcing me back against the counter. He braces his hands on either side, caging me in with his body. “Babe, come on. I just got you back.”
I look up and meet his eyes, knowing that I have to break his heart, only he doesn’t give me a chance when he takes my waist and lifts me onto the counter. He steps in between my legs and drops his hands to my thighs. “Haven’t things been nice the last few days? It’s been like old times, like the old you and me before everything got fucked up.”
“I know,” I whisper. “It’s been nice, but it’s not the same …”
“Just … wait. Wait here for two seconds.”
Nic takes off like a bat out of hell and I hear him fumbling around in his room, digging through drawers. He comes back less than thirty seconds later with a strange look on his face; a weird mix between nervous, excited, and shit-scared.
“What’s going on?” I question, studying him through a narrowed gaze as he makes his way back into the kitchen. “What did you get?”
“Listen,” he says, coming right back to where he was before. “You’re not going to like this but I need you to hear me out, okay? Just wait until I’ve said what I have to say before even thinking about cutting me off.”
“Nic,” I warn, not liking where this is going. “What’s going on?”
He clenches his jaw and all the blood rushes out of his face as he takes my hand out of my lap. He flips it over until he’s looking down at my palm and then drops a silver ring into it.
My stomach clenches as my eyes bug out of my head. I look up at Nic, terrified. “What is this?” I demand, dropping my gaze back to the offending item in my hand, wondering just how far I could throw this fucking thing. “Nic, fucking speak now. What the hell is in my hand right now?”
He looks sick as he watches me. “You said that you’d hear me out.”
“I didn’t agree to shit,” I remind him, holding the ring between my fingers and raising it to his eye level. “Now start explaining what the fuck this is.”
Nic takes a shaky breath and places his hands on my thighs before finding his balls. “I think we should get married.”
“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, DOMINIC? On what fucking planet is that a good idea?”
“You’re my girl, O. You’ve always been my girl and you’ve been denying us for so damn long now, but you know it in your heart. You know we’re going to end up together so why are we bothering with all this in between bullshit? Let’s just skip ahead to the finish line.”
I bark out a sharp laugh because surely, this must be some twisted joke. I bet the guys are hiding out in the apartment with a hidden camera, ready to tell me that I’m being pranked. There’s literally no other logical explanation for this other than Nic has finally gone insane.
“Okay, sure. If skipping ahead to the finish line is what you really want, then let’s go ahead and skip to the finish line of this conversation.” I slam the silver ring down on the counter beside me, feeling more annoyed than I have the right to feel. Who does he think he is throwing this shit in my face? “You and I are not happening. I’m not about to marry you and I’m not about to let you talk me into it. I'm seventeen. This is insane. I swore to you that I was never going to be with you after you fucked Carmen Saunders on this very counter. You broke my heart, Nic and that was the biggest mistake you ever made because now I’ve gone and given mine to someone else.”
“That’s bullshit,” he roars, grabbing the ring and shoving it back in my hand, never being one to handle being told no. “How can you deny this? You’re not in love with that rich prick. You just think you are because he can offer you a fucking glamorous lifestyle. You’re acting like a fucking barbie bitch. You need to remember who you are and where you belong.”
My hand slaps out across his face, the sound of the sharp sting echoing through his small apartment. I push him back and jump down from the counter, glaring up at him with venom in my eyes. “I know exactly who the fuck I am and after all this time, I thought that you’d have figured it out as well. I’m not your little whore that you can mold into the perfect gang wife and I'm never going to be that person. Sure, a year ago the thought of being with you was thrilling, dangerous, and exciting, but it’s not anymore. I've moved on. I know my worth and it’s not visiting some dead-beat husband in prison every second week, finding some other women's underwear under my bed, or sitting by your bedside after being shot for the hundredth time. I'm not doing that to myself. I deserve better. I deserve a guy who looks at me as though I’m all that exists in his world, a guy who values me and makes me his priority, and a guy who’s not afraid to sit the fuck down and let me be the ruler of my own damn life.”
“What?” he scoffs. “And you think Carrington is that guy?”
“I fucking know he is,” I spit. “He’s never once hurt me, he’s never once dragged me down three flights of stairs out of pure jealousy. He’s stood back and let me make my own fucking mistakes and then stood by my side, helping build me back up once I realized where I went wrong. He doesn’t hold me back, telling me I belong somewhere I don’t. He doesn’t try to guilt me into loving him, and he sure as hell doesn’t keep me from trying to better myself.”