Heidi's Guide to Four Letter Words(59)

“Stop!” I shout, tears of humiliation falling fast and hard down my face. “You don’t get to call me sweet and adorable anymore. You’ve been listening this entire time? To everything? Oh my God, you must think I’m so pathetic. Is that why you said yes to that first date? Because you felt sorry for me? Your poor, dorky neighbor who couldn’t talk to a man she liked without giggling and looking like a fool. The pitiful woman who lives next door and has to read from erotic books just to get some confidence and learn how to be sexy. Boy, this must have been a nightmare for you, pretending like you actually gave a shit about someone so childish and ridiculous.”

Since I made the mistake of blocking myself in when I backed into the wall, I have nowhere to go when Brent charges across the room and cups my face in his hands.

“I never, never thought any of those things about you, Heidi. You have to believe me. Everything between us is real. Everything I feel about you is real. I didn’t go out with you because I pitied you. I went out with you, because I wanted to. Because I’ve wanted to since the first moment I met you, when you knocked on my door and welcomed me to the neighborhood with a chicken casserole,” he tries to explain, swiping my tears away with his thumbs.

I don’t even care about arguing with him that it’s called a hotdish and not a casserole. I don’t care about anything aside from wishing a hole would open in the floor and swallow me up. I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life. I fully planned on poking a little fun at myself when I finally came clean and told him about the podcast, and I pictured us having a good laugh about it, because I would be in control of the situation. And let’s be honest, those podcasts are a little silly. But this… knowing he’s been listening to me this entire time and never said a word… knowing he’s heard my deepest, darkest insecurities without my knowledge and used them to his advantage for whatever reason, it hurts. It hurts so badly I can’t breathe. Regardless of how silly those podcasts were, they were mine. And I was proud of them and all the ways they helped me break out of my shell. Now, I’m just ashamed of them. I’m disgusted with myself that I couldn’t just be a normal woman, with a normal crush, who could have a normal relationship without needing help.

“You were so shy, and sweet, and your smile lit up my world,” Brent continues, my face still held in his hands, because I just don’t have the energy to move away. “Growing up in L.A., I spent my entire life surrounded by vapid women who intimidated me and made me feel like I wasn’t good enough. That my looks weren’t good enough, that my career wasn’t good enough, that my family wasn’t rich enough, that the car I drove and the house I lived in weren’t fancy enough. You never made me feel that way. You made me like myself and the choices I made with my life. You made me want to do everything I could to be a good person so you’d want to be with me. I shouldn’t have listened to your podcast without telling you, and I’m so sorry I did. But I also wouldn’t have known how you felt about me if I hadn’t. I didn’t think you gave two shits about me, which is why I never asked you out.”

God, I want to believe him, but how can I? Every word he says should be lighting me up inside, but it just feels like he’s stabbing a knife right into my heart. The more I go over everything I said and did in those podcasts, the more I start to question everything about our relationship. When I get to one particular episode in my head, a painful gasp flies out of my mouth and I finally find the energy to wrench out of his hold on my face and move away from him to stand in the doorway.

“That night I came over to your house because I was frustrated with weeks and weeks of always making the first move, and you yanked me inside and gave me an orgasm against your wall, you were wearing earbuds.” The realization of what happened that night is making me feel sicker and sicker until I have to press my hand to my stomach to keep going. “I just got done uploading a podcast about how I wanted you to take charge and be all alpha male after you left my house, and like some magical fucking unicorn, you did exactly what I wanted. God, I thought you were so perfect, just seeming to know what I wanted without me having to say anything, but you were listening. Oh my God, you were listening! Do you have any idea how mortifying that is?”

I’m practically choking on my tears at this point, and my hand moves from my stomach to clamp tightly over my mouth before I start wailing. Turning away from him, I quickly make my way out of his room and down the hall, not even caring that I’m leaving all my clothes behind and I’m only wearing his sweatshirt. I need to get out of here. I need to get away from him before I make any more of a fool of myself with all the tears and the snot that just won’t stop.

“Heidi, please! Don’t go!” Brent shouts, his bare feet pounding on the hardwood floor as he races after me.

As soon as my hand wraps around the handle of his front door, I feel him against my back, reaching over my shoulder and pressing his palm against the wood to stop me from opening it. My head drops forward, and I squeeze my eyes closed when his free arm wraps around my waist and he holds me securely against the front of him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his mouth pressed right against my ear. “I’m so fucking sorry. I should have told you, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to ruin anything about what you were doing. I was so proud of you, watching you come out of your shell and doing it all on your own; you have no idea. You amaze me, and I’m so goddamn proud of you. Please, believe me. I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to make you feel embarrassed. I love you. I love everything about you, and I can’t lose you, Heidi.”