And wouldn’t start now.
He’s been on his own for so long, he’s convinced himself anyone who gets close to him is waiting with one foot out the door. Ready to bail at the first sign of trouble.
I would’ve had to be blind to miss Morgan’s face when she found out I’d invited Alex to crash on her couch. She waited up for us and clearly wasn’t expecting to see Alex stumble through her front door, but it was obvious Will wasn’t the only one who’d had too much, and I felt bad leaving him there.
Plus, the way he looked at Morgan when he saw her in her tiny pajama shorts and tight tank top suggests she might thank me tomorrow.
“Come on.” I drag Will to Morgan’s guest room, nudging the already unfastened door open with my elbow and venturing inside. “Here you go.” I unlink Will’s arm from my shoulders, guiding him down onto the bed as gently as my lack of muscles allows me to.
I expect to hurry back to Morgan’s bedroom, pass out, and take it up with him tomorrow, but it doesn’t seem to be in the cards for me because Will tugs on my hand, jerking me on top of him so suddenly a small screech escapes me.
His lips come down on mine before I can blink, sending my pulse through the roof. Part of me knows this is not the right time, but the other is relieved. In disbelief that this is happening.
I thought I’d lost him.
So, when he pins me down under him, slides his tongue into my mouth, and curves a hand inside my sweatpants… I let him. I’m not wearing any underwear, which gives him clear access to my—
Shiitt.
“Fuck,” he rasps against my mouth, slowly curling a finger in and out of me. “I need you, Kass. I need you so fucking bad. Don’t ever scare me like that again.”
I know it’s probably just the alcohol talking, but the way he says it… It punches me in the feels.
He’s talking about my text, isn’t he?
“Will, you’re not yourself. Y-You need to sober up.”
“I don’t want to sober up.” He picks up the pace, easing a second finger inside me effortlessly and winning over a moan I kept locked up. His mouth connects with my neck, paying extra care to my collarbone, and I scold my body for disobeying my brain. I can feel his length digging into my thigh. “I want to fuck you so hard I forget what you did. I don’t want to be angry anymore. Let me forget,” he begs, withdrawing his fingers and flipping my T-shirt over my bare chest. I didn’t bother putting on a bra earlier. He grunts at the view, sucking my right nipple into his mouth with such pressure that my back arches.
This can’t be happening.
Not like this.
“Will, we can’t.” Heaven only knows how I find the resolve to push him away. My body pulsing with desire, I carry myself off the mattress, panting like I just ran a marathon. He stares as I smooth my T-shirt back down, putting much-needed distance between us.
He scoffs. “Right, I forgot… You gave up on me.”
Is he joking?
“Stop saying that. That’s not true.”
“Please.” He drops onto his back. “One peek into my life and you fucking ran. Then you wonder why I kept the truth from you.”
“I didn’t run! You pushed me away.”
Did he not get my gazillion texts this week?
He completely ignores me. “It’s fine. Can’t say that I blame you. She should’ve run, too.”
His voice decreases into a mumble.
“Then maybe she’d still be here.”
I can’t keep my nerves under control.
“Who?” I sit on the bed. “Who would still be here?”
The answer comes to me.
“Lyla?” My voice wavers.
Is she dead? Is that what he’s saying?
He doesn’t deny nor confirm my suspicions, pinching his eyes shut as though he can’t bear for me to see him like this.
“It’s all my fault.” He sounds pained.
“What is?”
“She trusted me. And I betrayed her.”
“What’s your fault, Will?” I insist.
“God, I… I wanted to be mad at you, Kass. I tried. I tried so fucking hard this week,” he rambles. “What you did… It’s not okay, but then… Then you send me one text. One stupid text that sounds like I’m losing you and I’m right back to…” He clamps his lips together, scolding himself for saying too much—feeling too much.
His red, exhausted blue eyes find mine.
“And I thought I would never forgive myself, but when I’m with you… I do. For that one, blissful second, I don’t feel guilty anymore. And I hate it. I hate that I’m happy. I shouldn’t… I don’t deserve it.”
I don’t have the slightest idea of what he’s going on about, but I decide to play along. “That’s normal, Will. It’s hard to move on after losing someone and Lyla.” Her name leaves a bitter taste on my tongue. “She was important to you, wasn’t she?”
He doesn’t reply for the longest time. I secure his hand into mine, interlacing our fingers.
“Yeah, she was,” he admits.
The confirmation hurts a tad more than expected.
“But with you,” he rasps, his eyes falling closed. “With you, it’s different.”
“How am I different?”
He releases my hand, his answers growing apart. His body twitches with spasms, a clear indicator that he’s drifting off to sleep. Then, seconds before he passes out…
He says something that splits my heart in two.
“You’re different because I love you.”
Kassidy
I didn’t sleep a wink after he said it.
I lay in Morgan’s bed for three hours. Tossing. Turning. Overthinking. Not that my best friend minded. She never made it up to her room. Pretty sure she spent the night on the couch with Alex.
I must’ve asked myself a million questions—Did he mean it? Was that the alcohol speaking? Is he going to remember any of this tomorrow?—all of which had the same answer: Only time will tell.
It’s past ten when I drag my exhausted, zombie-looking ass down the stairs to quench my thirst. I assume I’m the first one up by the complete absence of noise in Morgan’s house. Passing through the living room, I find Morgan and Alex asleep on the pull-out couch, snuggled up together.
I crack a smile.
Her thank-you better be epic.
I pad into the kitchen, flinching at the sun shining through the bay window, and down a glass of water. Then I make coffee. Resting my elbows against the counter, I sip on my espresso, listening to the only audible sound in the house: cars driving by.
Will’s voice pops into my head. You’re different because I love you. What I wouldn’t give to hear him say that when he’s sober.
“Morning.”
I jerk in surprise, a splash of coffee flying out of my cup and onto the kitchen counter. Will stands behind me, in last night’s outfit, his hair a tousled mess, and his eyes rimmed with his lack of sleep.
“Hey… you’re up,” I state, but it comes out as a question. Even pale and exhausted, he looks like that. How?
Freaking how?
“Unfortunately,” he groans, edging farther into the room and wincing at the light as I did. “Damn, that’s a lot of sun.”