Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
“You all right, love?” he asks, and I can hear the worry in his voice.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak, and I hold him closer to me in response.
He’s there for me. He’s right here. And all I want is to stay here with him, in his arms.
“I’m falling for you,” I whisper. I regret it instantly. I didn’t want to say it. I didn’t want him to know how I felt because I know he doesn’t feel the same way, that this was just supposed to be a casual thing.
He stiffens beside me, as if shocked, and my heart sinks.
Oh god. What have I done?
I’ve ruined everything.
Panic floods through me, and I try to pull away, but he holds me tighter.
“Laila,” he says, his voice going tender. “Don’t.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, and I really am. I feel like an idiot. I don’t know what I was thinking.
“Don’t apologize,” he tells me, and he’s kissing me again, holding me against him. “Just please, don’t tell me you’re falling for me.”
I pause.
“Why not?” I ask, feeling a little angry now.
He runs his fingers through my hair, as if trying to comfort me.
“Because I can’t give you what you need,” he tells me. “I can’t give you what you deserve.”
I swallow, trying to get rid of the lump in my throat.
“What if I don’t deserve anything?” I ask, my voice catching.
“Don’t say that. You deserve the world, Laila, but I can’t give that to you.”
“Stop saying that,” I tell him. “Stop saying you can’t give me what I deserve. You’re here now.”
He doesn’t respond to that. He just lies there, holding me, and I can feel his chest rising and falling.
“I’m here now,” he finally says, as if thinking about it. “I can give you that, at least for a little while. I can be here for you.”
“Then that’s all I need,” I tell him.
“No,” he says. “No, that’s not what you need. You deserve so much more.”
“I don’t want more,” I tell him, feeling fucking ridiculous, like I’m bargaining with him to stay in my life, to keep things status quo. “I only want you.”
“I’m not sure that’s enough,” he tells me. “I can’t…I won’t be able to…You need so much more than I can give.”
I stare at him. How many times have I heard that I’m “too much” for someone?
“Who hurt you?” I ask, suddenly angry. “Who broke your heart so badly you can’t even let yourself feel anything for me?”
He blinks at me, surprised at my outrage. I’m surprised myself. I’m in dangerous territory. I try not to let myself get angry often, because when I do it’s like the rage blinds me and I say terrible things, things that I might not even mean.
He then gives his head a shake and gets out of bed.
“I’m sorry,” I plead, quickly reaching for him, but he’s already on his feet. “I didn’t mean that.”
“You knew that this had to remain this way,” he says through a harsh whisper, putting his clothes back on.
“Nothing has changed,” I tell him. “Nothing at all. So I told you I’m falling you for you, so what?”
“So what?” he says, an edge to his voice. “So what? I don’t want you to fall for me, Laila, not if I’m going to break your heart.”
“Then don’t break my heart,” I tell him.
He shakes his head again. “This was a mistake.”
“It’s not a mistake,” I cry out, sitting up on my knees. “I’m just…I developed feelings and I shouldn’t have, but it doesn’t have to change anything between us. We can just keep having sex, keep having fun.”
He runs his hands over his face, head dropping. “No,” he says adamantly. He looks up at me. “We can’t. I care about you, Laila, I really do. But I’m not going to string you along like this if I know where your heart is at. I won’t do that to you.”
“But I don’t understand,” I say softly, making fists in the sheets, the anger and frustration rising inside me. Frustration at the situation, at how quick he is to call things off, anger at myself for saying anything at all. I hold my tongue because I know if I say anything now my words are going to be harsh and full of venom. I need to be quiet; I need to let him go and not make this worse than it already is.
I feel my eyes filling with tears, and I don’t bother to wipe them away. I don’t care that I’m crying, I don’t care that he sees me like this. He knows how I feel, so he might as well know what I’m going through, the hurt I’m feeling now.
He’s watching me, his face unreadable. “I’ll miss you,” he says quietly. “Miss us.”
Hearing him say that just makes my heart sink even more.