Flower(27)

“What do you mean, rules?”

“Guidelines for us being together.”

“You make it sound like it’s a business deal,” I say uneasily.

“It’s the only way this will work. The only way I can protect you.”

“You don’t need to protect me,” I say.

He winces slightly. “Yes, I do.”

“This sounds more like control than protection. What exactly are you protecting me from?”

He sighs. “My life can be crazy sometimes. And things move pretty fast in my world. I don’t want you to get caught up in it—I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“Again, I’m pretty sure I’m capable of making my own decisions.” I can feel the anger starting to burn my cheeks.

“I just mean that you might not be prepared for it—the chaos that comes with dating someone like me. You saw what happened that night outside the bar. The crazy fans, everyone wanting a piece of me. It can be overwhelming. And I want to protect you from it. That means we take it one step at a time, we don’t rush into anything.”

“What does that mean—you want to be the one who decides when we see each other, when we go on dates, how far we go?”

He runs a hand over his eyes, a weary gesture. “Look, I know it seems extreme, but you don’t understand what it’s like. That night after Lola’s, that’s the tip of the iceberg. Everything I do is amplified, it’s scrutinized and studied and judged. I... I have to have control over everything I do.”

“And you want control over me, too?”

“No. But dating me won’t be like dating anyone else. It comes with complications and I’m the one who knows how to navigate them. That means I need to set boundaries. For your protection and mine.”

“Rules, you mean. And what if I want to see you, what if I want to kiss you? Am I allowed to do that?” My tone is short, and I realize I’ve crossed my arms, blocking him from getting any closer.

He blows out a breath of air. “Yes, of course. But there will be limits, at least at first. I need you to trust me.”

I shake my head and look away from him, clenching and unclenching my teeth.

“It’s just how it has to be, Charlotte.” But his voice is not soothing or pleading. He knows I’m beyond comforting.

My mother’s ring is suddenly heavy on my finger. I touch it with my thumb. “No,” I say, a chill rising across my flesh. “This isn’t what I want—not like this. I’m trying to understand, but all you want to do is set limits. That’s not how it’s supposed to be.”

“It’s the only way.” Everything about him seems hard, suddenly.

My mouth goes dry. I can’t believe what he’s saying. I drop my arms and straighten my posture, looking him straight in the eye. “Then I guess we can’t do this.” I take a full step away from him, my eyes unable to blink, my hands shaking. My whole life has been about me having control: controlling my future, making all the right decisions. Blazing my own path, like my grandmother said. I’ve never let anyone control me, and I’m certainly not about to start now.

He doesn’t even try to stop me, to convince me to stay, but I can feel him watching me as I turn and walk through the foyer.

I want him...but not like this.

I don’t look back, rushing out through the front door, my feet slapping against the stone and my eyes stinging from the surge of tears.

The still night air sweeps over me as soon as I step outside and I gulp it in, imagining that it will cool my burning flesh, all the places where he touched me.

The places where I will never feel his touch again.

*

I throw back the blankets, the heat palpable, sweat rising in a sheen along the curves of my body. The window is open beside my bed, but no breeze rushes through. There’s only the sound of insects ticking and humming, a world in motion.

I force my eyelids closed, my body now splayed out across the top of the sheet. But my brain won’t stop cycling through memories of Tate. I can still taste his lips, his mouth on mine, the rush of his hands, the murmur of his voice as he sang his song against my ear.

Do you want to take a chance? he asked earlier tonight, standing in front of me right after we kissed. I have to have control over everything. It’s the only way this will work. The only way I can protect you. His words keep replaying in my head. But why does he need control? What is he so afraid of? And why is he so certain I’m going to get hurt?

I roll over in bed, cramming my face against my pillow, trying to suffocate my own thoughts so I can get some sleep.

I need you to trust me, he said. And I want to—desperately, I want to trust him. But I’m not sure how. I’ve never been with anyone before—I have nothing to compare this to. Yet I’m certain no one Carlos has ever dated needed this much control over their relationship.

I know Tate’s different. He’s famous and wealthy and lives a life I probably can’t even imagine. But Tate made it sound like he was actually worried something might happen to me—like dating him might somehow destroy my life.

I flip onto my back, eyes wide open, staring up at the white-spackled ceiling. I don’t need his protection. Just like I told him tonight: I’m capable of making my own decisions.