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Disgust and nausea rolled through Zane. He thought maybe sleeping, putting yesterday behind him, would make it go away. Convince him he was right to push Riley away last night. He was wrong. He told her the truth—finally spilled his big secret—and just like he expected, she left.
You told her to.
She could have argued. Could have stayed.
Do you blame her for going?
No. It was what he wanted. What was best for her. He couldn’t draw her into this sinking pit with him. He was being selfish, leading her on, keeping her around, when he couldn’t give her what she needed long term.
A painfully loud knock jarred him out of his own head. He could ignore it. If it was Archer, Zane didn’t want to see him. Or maybe, a distraction would help him ignore his invisible wounds a bit longer.
His thoughts stalled when he yanked open the door and saw Riley. She stared at him, looking incredible despite the dark circles under her eyes and the oversized T-shirt and sweats.
He steeled himself and dragged up the resolve to push her away. It all evaporated the moment he opened his mouth. “Hey. I’m making coffee. Do you want some?”
She shook her head and stepped around him. Would she sit? Stay a while? That seemed like a horrible idea, but it sounded so good.
She lingered in the middle of the room, rubbed her face, and looked at him again. “I don’t know why I’m here; you made yourself clear yesterday. But I still can’t leave this alone.”
“Can you forgive me for what I did? For who I am?” He had no right to ask her that. He couldn’t forgive himself.
She looked drained. Her shoulders drooped when she flopped to sit on the edge of the futon. She moved her lips a few times, before finally saying, “I don’t know.”
“Then we’re done here.”
“You misunderstand.” Exhaustion lined her words. “I can see how much this devours you—what happened overseas. I don’t hold that against you. It’s going to take time for me to process; I’ll be honest. I don’t think any less of you, though. I still adore you.”
“Then what’s the problem?” He shouldn’t ask. He didn’t want to know.
“You don’t trust me. Which is your right, but if we don’t have that, we don’t have anything. It’s my fault, too. This whole friends-with-benefits thing was a bad idea.”
Damn straight. So why did hearing it gnaw deeper into his senses? Plenty of other women made cutoffs look erotic and tasted like cherry lip-gloss. “I still don’t know why you’re here,” he said.
She nodded at the empty space next to her. He sat, and she twisted to face him, legs crossed. A heavy pause spread through the room, before she finally spoke. “High school. Senior year.”
The four words echoed in his thoughts, and he froze. He forced himself to relax. At least if their past was going to torment them, they’d go full-throttle. There were so many old scars there. “You want to rehash what was some really miserable shit for both of us?”
“Homecoming.”
“Don’t do this.” He dropped his gaze. Of course she wanted to talk about that. She was going to push until she reopened more wounds.
“I’d been hinting all summer that I wanted to you ask me.”
The revelation dug deep. Why did she say that now? Why not ten years ago? It didn’t matter. He’d already dealt with that and moved on. So much had happened since, that moment shouldn’t even be a blip on his radar any longer. “To homecoming?”
“Yes.”
“So why didn’t you ask me? An even better question is, why did you say yes to someone else?”
Her frown deepened. “I was an insecure teenage girl, with dreams of you being Prince Charming. I said yes to someone else, because I was hoping it would catch your attention and you would see what you were missing and ask me yourself.”
“You did it to make me jealous?” he asked in disbelief. Such a childish game. So why did it tug at something warm inside?
“Insecure teenage girl, remember?”
A laugh slipped out at the confession. Was he actually starting to relax? This easy banter with her was what soothed him and kept him from slipping into his own regrets. Even when they hit a painful subject, if they could move past it, it comforted him. He didn’t want that. Hadn’t earned the right to move on.
As long as they were confessing, he might as well spill it all. “I’d been trying to work up the courage to ask you for weeks. When someone asked me that morning, I told her no and realized I needed to suck it up and let you know how I felt. Except you already had a date. I pretended to be happy for you, because that’s what best friends do, and I didn’t want you to think I was a bad sport. I convinced myself I read your hints wrong and we really were just friends. So I went back to her and told her I’d love to go with her if she’d still have me.”
She stared back, silent.
“What are you thinking?”
Her smile looked forced. “Just wondering how things would have been different if we’d hooked up back then.”
“We’d be miserable.” That’s why he brought it up. For as many times as he had the same what-if thought, he already knew the answer.
“Why do you say that?” she asked.
She wasn’t supposed to question him. He had his reasons. “You don’t feel that way about me. Imagine if we’d indulged a temporary crush and broken up. We wouldn’t be here now.” Not that he knew where here was.
Hurt echoed in her eyes. “I guess.”
He hated the distance between them and that it grew with every passing second. He hated even worse that he was the current source of her gloom. “We didn’t belong together then, and we don’t belong together now.” He shouldn’t have let things go this far. It had been stupid and shortsighted. Destroying what they had, because he was thinking with his dick.
“Do you really feel that way?” She clenched her jaw and narrowed her eyes.
“Of course I do.” Part of him whispered it was a lie, but a louder voice screamed nothing had ever been truer. “That’s the way it is.”
“I see.” She stood, not looking at him. “I don’t know what I’m doing here, then.”
“Me neither.” He forced his hands to stay by his side. Swallowed his call to stop her from walking out the door. This was the way it had to be.