His gaze hardens instantly, his jaw popping. “Is that what you want?”
“No,” I jolt at his sharp tone. “Not even close.”
He blusters out a heavy exhale and runs a hand through his damp hair. “It’s fine. We’re cool. You don’t owe me an explanation.”
I prop my hands on my hips, feeling more vulnerable than I’m comfortable with. Did I misread this thing between us? Is Casper right and I’m being foolish?
“Maybe not, but I wanted you to have one all the same.”
“Why?”
One word. One simple word.
And suddenly, it’s like a spring snapping me back into place.
Yet, he’s asking such a complicated question, demanding an answer I don’t know if I should give him. He’s going to break me in half, I can feel it.
But that doesn’t stop me from going with the truth. “Because I like you. And I sincerely thought the feeling was mutual. I don’t know what’s going on with us, Gus. You kissed me and then stopped and then ghosted me—”
“I wasn’t ghosting you. I was giving you space,” he cuts in, and I feel my eyebrows bunching together.
I tilt my head. “What’s that now?”
He grins, shifting into me as he reaches out, grasping a lock of my hair and wrapping it around his fist. He gives it a tug and I willingly oblige, stepping in closer until our bodies are practically flush. And even after washing off all that sweat and heat, I still feel him, sticky and salty and radiating a warmth I can’t help but curl into.
Desire swirls low in my belly. The urge to lick every inch of him somewhere mixed into that.
“Space. You know, so you could think. I didn’t want to overstep after I kissed you.”
God, why are boys so dumb?
I shake my head at him, but I’m smiling all the same. “Girls don’t like space. We like calls and texts. Especially after a kiss like the one you planted on me. We like it when the guy who gave us said kiss lets us know that we’re not the only one thinking and obsessing about it after the fact.”
“Is that what you were doing? Thinking and obsessing about it?”
He has no idea.
“You tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine.”
He chuckles. “I thought you didn’t date musicians.”
“I thought you were in love with your ex,” I throw back at him and practically cringe at the words.
He doesn’t even stir with that one. “I’ve been thinking lately, how that may not be the case anymore. What about your ex?”
I hate him and I worry about him and I don’t want him anywhere near me and I want him to be successful. Why did Casper have to place Florian’s sobriety on my shoulders? It’s such a heavy weight. He knows what it means to me. The fear and panic drugs and their deathly consequences instill in me. Maybe this makes me weak and a little pathetic, but I can’t help it. The fear is consuming, even if I don’t want to be with him and I hate him, I can’t handle his death either.
“I’m not with him and I have no plans to be. But Casper asked me to help out with their new album and I haven’t decided yet whether or not I’ll do that,” I admit reluctantly. My head bows. “That’s a shit answer, but it’s true. He’s sober and I…”
“Why did you follow me in here, Naomi?”
Gus grasps my chin, tilting it back up until my eyes are forced to meet his. The intensity in them has my body running circuits. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Gus. I don’t want Florian. That said, I just… I need to sort everything out in my head. Casper said some stuff and I…” I huff out loud and long. “I just need to make sure he’s in a good place.” And won’t die. “That’s all though.”
Gus emits a ragged breath, his hand rutting through his still-damp hair making the ends stick up erratically. I imagine it would look similar after sex.
Not helping things right now.
“I liked kissing you, Naomi. I don’t know what’s happening, and I know we both have more baggage than anyone needs, but I was really fucking angry this morning when I saw those pictures. So fucking angry. It’s not an emotion I’m all that comfortable wearing. I’m not sure how cut out I am to be the other guy.”
Christ, that hurts. He’s not the other guy, but in a way, I get his thinking on it.
I stare up into his eyes, hoping he hears me and sees me and believes me. “I understand why you’d think that. But I don’t think of you that way. Not even close.”
He shakes his head and my insides quake. I want him to put up a bit of fight. He’s not and it sucks. He’s placing all this on my shoulders. Every confession. In fact, I see the retreat all over him. His eyes are shuddered shut. You shall not pass, they say.
I look away.
This time, he lets me.
“I know I’m not being fair, and I understand,” I mumble, my cheeks heating as I self-consciously and unnecessarily repeat myself. “But maybe—”
“Look,” he interrupts. “We really don’t have to do this. Of course, we’ll still be friends. That won’t change. But I’m thinking I need to focus on the band and the album and this duet instead of all this accessory stuff.”
Accessory stuff? Is that what I am to him?
It makes me feel like a handbag. Something you toss away when the strap breaks or shove in the back of your closet when the season is over. Isn’t that all I’ve ever been to a man. Something no one cares enough about to stick with and fight for.
Then again, all he said was that he likes kissing me. Nothing more than that.
Friends.
That’s been his go-to party line.
And even though this hurts, I know he’s right. He’s probably doing me a favor by giving me a reprieve from some of the turmoil and vacillation.
But still...
“Sure,” I say, doing my best to put on my impervious, nothing gets to me face. “Totally understandable.” I wince at that goddamn word again. “Thanks for letting me explain.” I take a step back and then another. “I’ll let you finish up in here.” Spinning on my heels, I pause for a beat and when he doesn’t follow that up with anything or try to stop me from going, I rush out of the bathroom.
Letting the door click behind me, I release the disappointed breath I was holding.
It’s for the best, I tell myself.
But even as I think the words, I know they’re a lie.
Florian is back in my life and I don’t know how to deal with that. This duet is hanging over my head and I don’t know how to finish it. Gus only wants to be friends and that will never change.
Awesome. At least it’s not like things can get worse.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Gus
* * *
“Do you know what I hate more than anything?” Jasper asks in a casual tone despite the grueling question. He’s leaning back on his over-stuffed outdoor chair, a beer in his hand, and a fire blazing in the fireplace which illuminates the left side of his face in a warm, orange glow.
I don’t follow that up since I assume it’s rhetorical, but when he doesn’t answer his own stupid question, I find myself rolling my eyes at my twin. “I hate it when you do this shit. Just tell me and stop with all the dramatics.”