Where We Belong (A Touch of Fate #1)(13)
Fuck this, I haven't waited five years to just sit here. I push up from my seat and a round of cheers echo from my table. If I'm not mistaken, I hear Quinn mumble ‘it’s about damn time’ as I stride past her.
PISSED...I'M PISSED. NO, I’m beyond pissed. I'm furious. How could Levi do this to me? I trusted him, and he just invited Ty here without even—
Suddenly my arm is locked in a tight grip, another wrapping firmly around my stomach. Yanking at the hold, I attempt to propel myself forward but my body is quickly hauled up against a hard chest. Closing my eyes, I inhale deeply, a feeble attempt at calming myself. I don’t need to turn around to know who my captor is; I would recognize his scent anywhere. He smells of old spice deodorant and peppermint and...Tyson.
He’s panting, obviously having run out here after me, and his breath is hot against my ear, causing me to shiver. Fuck. I hate that he can still do this to me.
"Wha—" My voice comes out strained so I take a few deep breaths, trying to school my thoughts. My hands tremble at the feel of his arms wrapped around me, and my heart is slamming so hard in my chest that I'm slightly terrified it may tumble right out. "What are you doing here?"
To my surprise, he doesn't respond but continues to hold on to me without a word. God, he smells so good. He feels so good. How did I ever think I could get over—?
Nope, not going there.
Twisting from his grasp, I turn, shoving at his chest. He doesn't budge. When did he get so...so...big? My God, this boy is ripped! Pissed that he didn't budge, I shove him again. This time his hands encircle my wrists and he uses his momentum to pull me toward him.
My glare is hard, but I can feel myself melting as I take in the man standing before me. Tyson has always been buff, but now he is downright sculpted. His black Henley stretches across his wide chest, and I swear I can see the definition of his pecs through the material. That can't be right. Tyson doesn't have pecs. His sleeves are bunched around his elbows and when his grip tightens on my wrists, I watch as the muscles in his forearms flex. A surge of unwelcome warmth shoots through my body and I yank at his hold, but it's useless...he's too strong. I puff out a hard breath, blowing a strand of hair out of my eye.
I know for a fact that he's hiding two perfectly placed dimples behind the firm look that he's giving me. I also know that I most likely won't be seeing them anytime soon.
His hair is still the same, only longer. His once carefully manicured locks now fall in light brown waves across his forehead and curl at the tops of his ears. It takes all the strength I have not to reach up and run my fingers through his hair to see if it's as soft as it looks. Not that I could right now even if I tried, since it's obvious he has no intention of letting go of my wrists.
Plus...what the hell is wrong with me?
I don't want to stroke his hair...I want to pull it! And not in the hot, sexy kind of way either.
"I'm sorry." Tyson swallows hard. "I hurt you, Harley, and I'm so sorry." His voice is sincere and his eyes are soft—which only pisses me off even more.
I flinch at his words. "You're sorry?" I ask incredulously, a sarcastic laugh quickly making its way out of my mouth. I repeat myself, only this time it's not a question. "You're sorry. Tell me, Tyson, what exactly are you sorry for?" Wrenching myself free from his grip, I continue with my rant without giving him a chance to reply.
"Are you sorry for showing up tonight? Are you sorry that I’m upset about seeing you? Are you sorry that I'm even here?" Are you sorry that I haven't stopped loving you after all this time? Are you sorry that you broke my f*cking heart?
I can feel my body flush in frustration. My jaw clenches and tears burn my eyes, threatening to fall.
He grimaces at my words. A haunted look flashes across his face and he drops his head, staring down at his feet. He tucks his hands in his pockets, and I watch his shoulders rise and fall with a long, slow sigh.
I close my eyes tightly. This has to end. All of this anger and hurt that I've been harboring has got to go. As much as I don't want to do this, I know that I need to. I've waited five years to make peace. If there’s any chance of me getting past this and moving on, then now's the time. I allow my tears to fall silently down my cheeks. There’s no sense in wiping them away—he needs to know how much he hurt me.
"Or are you sorry for how things ended?" I murmur. "Is that it? After five long years, you've finally decided that you need to apologize for throwing away our friendship like it was nothing?"
His head snaps up, a painful expression marring his beautiful face. "You—"
"I know!" I snap, cutting him off. "I know I f*cked up, okay?" My voice trembles and I wipe angrily at my tears. "I tried to apologize but you wouldn't listen to me,” I yell, my voice cracking on the last word.
"I know but—” He tries to explain, but again I don't give him the chance. He didn’t once give me the opportunity to tell him how I felt in the past five years, so there’s no stopping me now.
"No! You don't know, Tyson. You don't know what I went through." Using my fist, I pound against my chest. "You don't know how bad your leaving hurt me. Because it did—it destroyed me. I needed you and you weren't there. I trusted you, Tyson. I trusted you with my friendship and my heart, and you ripped them both to shreds without a second thought." My chest is heaving and Tyson's face contorts as though he's in pain.