Page 49 of Every Hidden Truth

Pacing in front of him, I tried to glare him down, but as usual, he wasn’t intimidated by me. “Because you’re acting like you know what’s best for me. Like you know better than I do what I can or can’t handle. It’s fucking insulting!”

“Well, one of us has to look out for your well-being,” he muttered, glaring down at the carpet, and oh, I wanted to smack him.

“You can be so pretentious sometimes,” I snapped back, and he rolled his eyes. “I’ve been looking out for myself for years. I don’t need you riding in like a knight in shining armor to rescue me.”

“You don’t always take care of yourself,” he said evenly, voice tight with forced calm.

I stopped pacing. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

He raked a hand through his hair and shook his head. “You push yourself all the time, because you don’t want to be seen as weak. And I get it, okay? Weakness paints an even bigger target on your back than what you already have. So you adapted to survive. I get it.” He met my furious gaze. “But even with me, you push and you push, like you think I don’t see you as one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. I don’t think you’re weak, and I never have.

“But the more you push, the more it can hurt you and me and us. I don’t want that to happen.” He took a breath, gripping the edge of the pool table until his knuckles whitened. “I don’t want to be an instrument in re-traumatizing you.”

“You can’t dictate how this goes,” I said, digging my heels in.

“Neither can you!” he said, throwing his hands in the air. “Jesus, Silas, I shouldn’t have to convince my boyfriend not to hurt himself.”

“And I shouldn’t have to convince my boyfriend to want me,” I said before I could stop myself, and Ben straightened.

I couldn’t bear to see the pity—or worse, the truth—in his eyes, so I looked away.

“You think this about want?” he asked, sounding equal parts hurt and exasperated.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I just... if you don’t want to fuck me, fine. Just say so.”

“How can you think I don’t want you?” he asked like it was the most preposterous thing he’d ever heard. “I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you, okay? For Pete’s sake, those gray sweatpants you wore yesterday were so distracting. It was unfair how you were just there, existing in those sweatpants, and I couldn’t do anything about it.”

The sharp one-eighty gave me whiplash, but I was here for it.

“What did you want to do about it?” I demanded, and his cheeks flushed.

“Just... all the things,” he admitted mournfully, and I laughed. He ducked his head and chuckled, refusing to look at me as I closed the distance between us.

“I think I’m gonna invest in more gray sweatpants,” I said as I knocked his knees apart and stepped between them. “I’m gonna wear them every day.”

“You’re evil,” he grumbled, even as his dimple appeared.

“Baby, I’m just getting started,” I purred, sliding my arms around his neck. “Was it my ass or my dick in those sweatpants that did it for you?”

His shoulders shook with laughter. “It was all just very nice.”

We laughed, and his forehead met mine, our noses brushing. The amusement didn’t last; our earlier conversation continued to hang over our heads. But my temper had cooled, and Ben was smiling softly.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” I said.

With a heavy exhale, the tension leaked out of his body. “I’m sorry I made you think you weren’t wanted or that I don’t trust you. I do trust you. I just don’t want to betray the trust you put in me when you offer me the very thinghetried to take from you.”

And if that didn’t just break my heart.

“Oh, Ben.” I popped onto my toes and crushed him to me. He buried his face in my neck, fingers fisting in the back of my shirt. I kissed his nape, inhaling chlorine and spring soap, and he held me tighter.

Instead of figuring out a solution to our problem like mature adults, we decided to make out on his bed. I started listing all the places I thought my gray sweatpants would look good in, like the backseat of his car or in between his sheets, until Ben shut me up with his mouth. We didn’t do much talking after that.

The bell rang, jogging me out of the memory, and I sprang to my feet and joined the flow of students rushing out of the classroom. Two whole glorious weeks free from school opened up before me as I stopped by my locker and filled my bag with anything I might need during holiday break.

Two weeks of sleeping in and holiday celebrations and Ben. I couldn’t wait.

I kissed Ben goodbye at my truck before he headed to practice

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