For The One(90)
My eyes narrowed at him. “Like being unworthy. A person can believe himself unworthy.”
William blinked. “I guess you’re right.”
“Maybe we’re more alike than you think.” My mouth quirked into a semblance of a smile. “Despite the fact that I’m neurotypical.”
“I don’t hold that against you,” he said with a sly smile.
In spite of the tears, I laughed. “Thank goodness.”
He softly stroked my hair. “Maybe permanence is what scares you.”
I shrugged. “Maybe.” But if so, why did I feel empty inside? I was definitely lacking the usual excitement I felt just before moving on.
“I want you to stay, Jenna. I want you to be with me.”
I raised a brow and looked up into his face. “You mean like, sex and stuff?”
“More than just that. We could…have a relationship.”
I smiled. “My relationships don’t last long, either. Doug was three months. That’s about average.” I looked away, disconcerted by the way William seemed to be studying my face without looking at my eyes.
“Are you always the one doing the breaking up?”
I thought about it for a moment, running through a quick inventory of past boyfriends. In every case, I had been the one to call things off. My jaw dropped. “Wow…”
“What?”
“I have been the one to break things off every time.”
“After three months?”
I shrugged. “More or less.” He turned away, but not before I saw the frown on his face. “What’s wrong?”
He shook his head. “I’d rather not be with you if it’s only going to last that long. I think in the end it would be too hard.”
I swallowed, pulling away from him. He had a point. “You’re an all-or-nothing sort of guy?”
“I’m all about absolutes.”
My brows creased as I thought about it. Had I crushed those guys’ hearts? I’d never let it get serious enough, and most of the times they’d shrugged it off and moved on. But I had a feeling that no matter what I told William and no matter how much I tried to prepare him for it, he wouldn’t recover easily from me leaving.
He was right about this, and I had to stop pushing for it. He wanted something more than I could give him…and I couldn’t demand that he expect anything less than what he wanted.
He wanted me. And as amazing and wonderful as that made me feel, I could not give him what he wanted. That was my failing, not his.
I was stuck in this endless cycle of momentary gratification. Of chasing the next shiny thing, following the wind. Of…running away.
Chapter 24
William
I’m feeling melancholy as I drive her home tonight, unable to shake the feelings we’d stirred up—a curious mix of happiness and sadness, of hopes and losses and strong desire.
This heaviness never seems to go away. Every time I look at her, the weight increases, twists and even makes me a little breathless. It’s like I’m already losing something, and she’s still right here. Not to mention, she was never mine to lose.
But I can’t help it. I want her to be mine. And in those moments when I brought her to climax with my hands and mouth and tongue, she became my work of art. She became mine. For those few minutes when she surrendered herself to me, I’d readily claimed her. It felt powerful. And addictive.
The car is no longer moving, and neither is Jenna. She’s looking out the window at her apartment building with her hands still in her lap. I keep my hands on the steering wheel at the ten o’clock and two o’clock positions as if I’m still driving. I’m staring straight out the windshield. I have no idea how to say the words I want to say.
“Are you worried?” I blurt suddenly.
Her head turns slowly until she’s facing me. “About what?”
“About me losing the duel. About you not getting your tiara back.”
She smiles weakly and places a hand lightly on my upper arm. I resist the urge to shrug off that touch, even though it’s making my skin crawl. Because her touch is something I don’t think I could refuse.
“You’re not going to lose,” she states. “I believe in you.”
“The tiara is very valuable.” It’s not a question, but I have been wondering its worth for a while. Its personal worth.
She nods.
“Is it made of diamonds and precious gems?”
“Not diamonds, no. It does have monetary value, but that’s not why it’s important to me. It’s more about sentimental value.”
“What’s the sentimental value, then?”
She licks her lips and looks at me for a long time. In fact, the silence stretches out so long that I think she’s not going to answer.