You're to Blame(58)
He nods, slow, but visible from my dark side of the truck. I’ve been ignoring this thing between us. The unnecessary way Duke makes my heart pound. The absence of control we seem to have when we are in each other’s presence. It’s all right there in front of us, and now it feels like it’s crumbling.
“Tension doesn’t equate to anything,” Duke admits, twisting the key in the ignition, turning the engine off. Apparently, the liquor can wait.
“It’s more than just tension,” I whisper. “What it sounds like is you being a giant pussy who can’t admit he can’t stay away from me but feels obligated to.” I snap.
“Exactly, Charlotte. The other night, the way you made me feel, it has my head all sorts of fucked up. You aren’t mine to have, and it’s killing me.”
And there’s the honesty.
I clamp my mouth shut, but my jaw grows slack when his eyes penetrate me. His stare screams for me to understand. He’s incapable of explaining himself, and now, we’re both begging to be held, touched, adored, but neither of us move.
Tell him, my heart screams. Tell him everything.
“I know what it feels like to be discarded, Duke.” I step out of the truck. With my hands limp by my side, defeat heavy in my limbs, I address him. “You made me feel alive again, and all you had to do was call to not erase the feeling, but you didn’t because you’re too afraid of the person you may become next to me.”
There is no way he’s going to let us leave it like this.
“I’m no one next to you because you aren’t mine. Enjoy the lasagna, Charlotte.”
The passenger door rattles with my aggressive exit. At the stop sign, his brake lights glow, and then he’s gone.
The welcome sign on Lydia’s apartment door shakes as I pound my fist. Lydia greets me with a smile, until she notices my empty hands and no tequila. The delicious aroma of spaghetti sauce and garlic fills my nose, and anger boils in my blood.
“Hungry?” Lydia grimaces and flaunts her plate full of food.
I squeeze past her and fling myself face down on the couch, ready to scream into the soft fabric. “Fuck lasagna, and fuck Duke Anderson.”
Chapter Sixteen
Duke
The carpet in my apartment is one pace away from a hole. I can’t seem to slow the fuck down. My mind is reeling, and every nerve in my body is on high alert.
I may be an asshole, but what I just did to Charlotte was cruel. The way she looked at me still makes my bones ache as if I’d run a marathon. Exhausted. Out of breath. Unsure when the end will come.
A loud pound on the door breaks me from reliving the night for the twentieth time in the last hour.
“Explain to me what the hell happened?” Lydia stomps through the door when I swing it open. Her hands rest on her hips, and an anger I don’t recognize flames in her eyes.
“Yes, please, come in, Lyd.” She glares over her shoulder. Sarcasm delivered. I slam the door and go straight into the kitchen, popping the top to a beer and taking a long pull. “How did you even get here?” I beg the question. “Last I knew, you were two sheets to the wind, boozing it up with the girls.”
“Randy’s waiting outside,” she answers, pulling back the curtains. Randy sits in his truck under the street light, banging his hands on the steering wheel.
“What the hell is going on between you two anyway?” I sit on the couch.
“Oh no, you don’t. You changing the subject is not going to deflect from the shit show that is you and Charlotte.”
“There is no show. Hell, there is no TV.” Can she hear the bullshit, or will she let me get away with it? “Can we drop this? Please?”
“No, we can’t drop this, Duke.” Her hand rests on my knee. The corner of her mouth flicks into a sad smile.
“I don’t want your pity, Lyd.” And that’s what she’s here for. Charlotte ran up to her apartment and told her everything, and now she feels the need to check in on me. Unlike Charlotte, Lydia knows everything I said and did to Charlotte tonight was a defense mechanism.
“It’s not pity, Duke. You’re like my brother, and you’re struggling to hold on. You like her.”
“She’s all I can think about.” I stand, continuing the same path I began an hour ago.
“Then why did you just do what you did?” Some people in this world can destroy every lie you tell yourself. Lydia is my person. “If she’s all you can think about, why did you treat that sweet girl like all your other hook ups?”
“She isn’t like any of the other girls, Lyd. That’s the problem.”
“Duke, she’s stuck between what she’s always known, and this strange magnetic pull you two have with each other.” Lydia sighs, leaning back onto the couch. “You know how hard this is on you. Well, imagine how it is for her. Everything she ever thought she wanted is a lie, and the girl has no idea. To top it off, the one thing she needs” —she pokes her tiny finger into my chest— “she’s not supposed to want.”
Charlotte’s relationship with Jacob isn’t enough to deter me from wanting every ounce of her to myself. I’m selfish enough to place my own happiness before Jacob’s. What I’m not willing to do is cause Charlotte any more pain. Should’ve thought about that before you slept with her, douchebag.