Page 42 of The Beginning and End of Everything
At any given moment, a person has a countless number of decisions to make. Right then, I could have lied, or I could have brushed past Brandon and left. There are so many things I could have said, but words would cheapen things—like the eternal pull I felt between Brandon and me. And it was that gravity-defying push and pull that I was so over—so over being in love with a boy I thought I had no shot with, and I was so goddamn angry at him for giving me hope that I did.
So, despite the unsteady beat of my heart and the sinking feeling in my stomach, I stepped forward, gripped his jaw, and pushed up on my toes. Then I pressed my lips to his. Instead of him tensing the way I expected, Brandon’s arm came around my waist.
He may have been the only person I’d kissed, but I was certain there was an infinite difference to that kiss than any I would ever have. Because it felt like the beginning and end of everything all at once.
The heat of his bare chest bled through my shirt when he tugged my body flush against his.
“Poss,” he breathed against my lips. “I—”
But I swallowed his words on another kiss. And another. I wasn’t going to give him a chance to tell me no again.
His hands went to my hair, tilting back my head to deepen the kiss while he backed me through the living room. We bumped into walls on our way down the hall, and when we fell onto the lumpy mattress in his room, I followed his lead, just like I always had. Honestly, I would have followed that boy into hell if it meant I could have his heart.
We were a mess of lips and teeth, roaming hands, and before long, I was on my back in Brandon’s bed with nothing left on but my panties. His mouth traveled the length of my neck while his hand crept along my side, his fingers sweeping my hip before tracing lower. A ball of tension formed between my legs while I fumbled with his jeans. Then his boxers, but Brandon’s touch stayed right there, inches away from where I wanted.
“Fuck. I can’t…” he breathed against my throat before his teeth raked my lip.
I grabbed his wrist, shoving his hand between my legs, and that touch was enough to make my breath catch.
Brandon’s lips froze over mine. “Shit.”
The string of touches that followed, though—it had my fingers digging into his biceps and my back bowing away from the bed.
“Promise me you won’t hate me,” he mumbled into my neck, his hands gliding over my hips while his eyes touched every part of my body.
I kissed him harder than I had all night. “I won’t.”
The weight of his body shifted between my legs. I closed my eyes when he tore open a condom, fisting the blanket while I waited. His body pressed over mine, and then he hesitated, staring down at me with pinched brows. “I love you.”
“And I love you.” Then I grabbed his hips and pulled him into me, making the decision for us.
I wanted it to be Brandon. I had never been more sure of anything in my life, and no amount of meaningless girls would ever change that, because, at the end of the day, I knew Brandon in ways none of them ever would. And he knew me in ways I refused to let anyone else.
* * *
My naïve heartbelieved fate had finally taken its course, that Brandon loved me, and that nothing else would matter.
Then, the next morning came.
When I woke, Brandon was sitting on the edge of the mattress with his back to me. I shifted on the bed, and he pushed to his feet, grabbing his shirt from the floor and pulling it on. “I have to train with Uncle Darren,” he said, his voice strange and cold. “I’ll walk you home.”
A palpable tension filled the tiny room, squeezing my heart in a vice. I was another Lola Stevens. The thought made me all too aware of my naked body, and I clutched the sheets to my chest just as Brandon turned to face me.
His gaze swept over me with a hostility I’d never seen before as he scooped my clothes from the floor and dropped them on the bed next to me.
The flimsy door closed behind him with a bang.
As soon asI was dressed, I crept from his room. He herded me to the door, without a word. Without a glance, and shame draped around me like a heavy shawl, one that had me burning up from the inside out.
Brandon marched across the camp, toward the gate with such determination, I had to jog just to keep up, and when I did catch up, he kept space between us. Two houses down from mine, the silence was unbearable. “Are you okay?” I asked.
“Fine.”
Whatever I thought it would feel like to be with Brandon, this wasn’t it. This is how he treated other girls, but I had foolishly believed I would be different. A storm of emotions churned inside me.
“Fine,” I said and took off toward my gate. I didn’t need whatever chivalrous bullshit he was trying to pull by walking me home—like that would lessen the pain. I ran up the stairs and into my house, and he never called for me to turn around. When I peeked through the living room window, he was already halfway down the block, his hands shoved deep in his jean pockets.
My breath stuttered, and my jaw tightened. I wanted to cry and scream and curl into a ball on the floor for being so stupid.
