Page 3 of Forever Not Yours

I was surprised he remembered having lost his and then borrowing mine to change his shirt. Whatever.

He stepped closer as I slid my fingers around his waist and into his back pocket, retrieving said key. Then I turned around because yes, too close. Not that Bastien had any idea of personal space. Sober Bastien did. Drunk Bastien was standing behind me looking over my shoulder, his chin against my back, hands onmy arms, fingertips moving down until they reached my exposed skin.

He breathed, in and out, and closed his eyes for a moment.

I had no idea what he was thinking, apart from that he wanted me to bend to his demands and stay with him, pretend everything was fine when nothing was.

“I hate seeing you drunk.” I sounded like a middle-aged housewife. He let a little giggle slip like he could read me as well as I could him. He hated getting lectured, and that’s what I constantly seemed to do these days.

“Hey,” he started, moving those fingers gently up and down my arms, prickles everywhere, manipulating me to do what he wanted. And I would, because that’s the way we rolled. “Look, I know. I know everything you’re saying. And to be honest with you? I don’t care about all this either, but I wanted to just have a night out with you. I want you here.”

“Why?” I sounded weak. Being this close to Bastien was no good for me. It was one hundred percent a very bad idea. His nose digging into my shoulder, arms now around my front, hands grasping the fabric of myshirt like he was hugging me from behind. I had no idea when he’d moved or when I’d somehow…done this. Stepped too close. My body was reacting like it always did, trying to move away, regain some control. My forehead hit the filthy mirror in front of me as Bastian clung on.

“Because you matter. I don’t give a shit about anyone else. They’re just workmates. Colleagues. People I need to have here because it’s what’s expected, ain’t it? Can you just stay? Another hour? Have a glass of that fancy wine you were on about earlier?”

“Fancy wine,” I muttered. Nothing fancy about wholesale cheap plonk, which was what was served in dives like this. Probably watered down for good measure. I didn’t trust anything around here, least of all myself, because now his hand was on my face, fingertips stroking down my cheek, over my stubble. I wanted to swat him away, make himgo away. Skin. Too much skin.

“I know,” he said. “It’s a bloody shitshow. That axe-throwing place? What was that? Rage room? I wanted some actual rage in there. Instead, we had sixhungover blokes sat on the floor. Didn’t even have coffee. We all needed coffee.”

“You had enough coffee at breakfast.” I smiled. I had to because he was right. “Today was crap, wasn’t it. Really shite.” I’d booked it, and I’d fucked up. I should’ve taken up Juliet’s offer of help to get this right, engaged the professional event organiser she’d suggested but then, I was the best man, and this was the stag do. My job.

“Totally. We should have demanded our money back.”

He smiled. I did too. Too close. Too much him.

Maybe it was the drink. Maybe it was just the overwhelming fear of what we’d become. Or perhaps the stench of the place had done something to my brain.

“Jakey,” he whispered. “It’s okay.”

I didn’t know what was okay and what wasn’t. Where I was or who I was or where I was going from here. And in the end, I don’t think it mattered.

His hands were back on my shoulders, the sudden strength of him holding me firmly in place.

I didn’t resist. By that point, I think I had lost the ability to function. I found myself chest to chest withthe man…thisman, and he just looked at me. Straight on.

We were the same height, him and me. Eye to eye.

“Stay with me.” A small sad smile pulled at his handsome face. “Just for a few minutes. Just you and me. Let’s just hang out like we used to. I need that, Jakey. I really do.”

Those words should’ve made me snap back into Jakey mode. I should’ve given him a hug and dragged him back up to the bar, ordered him some water and checked his blood sugar levels, made sure he was okay. I should’ve done all my best-friend duties and kept all those promises. Too many promises that I suddenly wondered if I could keep them.

This person I found myself being, it wasn’t me. I didn’t do this, no. No, Bastien, and I didn’t do this. We didn’t do…whatever this was. And whatever it was, it was doing something to my insides. Insanity shooting through my veins. Desperation. A healthy dose of anger. Fear. Sadness. Grief.

The love, all that love—it was right here, deep cuts inside my heart. Hurt. Pain. I had no idea where it had all come from, or so I tried to tellmyself, but I knew. Love made you do weird things. Bastien had told me enough times. Love made you make bad choices. Mistakes.

Love. Fucking love.

I didn’t even know what that word meant anymore. His face was too close to mine. His breath was hot on my face.Love. A fucking lifetime of it. I leant in that last inch and smashed my mouth on his, kissed him with everything I had.

It was a one-time thing. The last thing. I was losing him anyway.

Love. Bloody insane.

He should have pulled away or perhaps pushed me away. Added a good mouthful of abuse for good measure.

He did neither, and that was the worst thing of all. He clung to me as I slammed him into the bathroom fixtures, grabbed my hand and slapped it onto his arse as he kissed me back, matching the fever in my veins. I lifted him up onto the filthy sink, his back against the mirror, pressing myself against him as his legs clamped around me.

What were we doing? Bastien Dewaert’s arse stuck in a filthy porcelain bowl, my hands on his bare back, his chest against mine. I suddenly caught my reflection in the mirror…and froze.

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