Page 133 of To Love or to Lose
“What’s wrong?” She asks, her voice already trembling. She must recognize my misery.
“We need to talk.”
“About what?” Genevieve glances around her room, as if to find something to distract herself with.
I follow her gaze, seeing the simplicity of her bedroom and how it so perfectly aligns with her personality.
All white furniture while her bedding is light grey. There are white, sheer curtains on the windows, giving her privacy but also making it so one can still see the outline of the sky and streetlights.
It has a cozy feel to it, but I can also tell it’s Genevieve’s room from how crisp and clean it is.
I look back toward her, and before I can think any more about it, I quickly say, “I’m going back to London.”
She laughs. “I know that already.”
“Today,” I clarify, making her eyebrows knit together, perplexed. “I’m going back to London today, Genevieve.”
“What?” I shake my head in confusion, hoping I’m misunderstanding. “When are you coming back?”
The new semester starts tomorrow, he can’t be gone too long.
“I’m not,” he responds. “I was given the option to go back to London to finish school, and I’ve decided that it’s the best thing for me to do.”
“So, that’s it?” I ask. “You were given the option and you’re leaving for good?”
“I’m sorry, Genova,” he sighs, his voice full of remorse.
I can feel my metaphorical heart—the one Jameson forced me to use the night of the party—completely shatter within me.
I turn in the opposite direction, facing the window that overlooks the front yard and walking toward it, holding onto the windowsill.
“Fuck you.”He’s quick to follow, taking a step toward me. “Absolutelyfuck you, Jameson,” I spit. “You think this is fair to me?”
“No, of course not.” He reaches for me, but I flinch away.
Against my greatest wishes, tears well uncontrollably in my eyes. The only thing worse than crying over Jameson Beaumont is doing it right in front of him.
“You are such a…” I trip over my words in anger. “Jerk!” I turn back, punching him in the shoulder as hard as I can. He barely moves, only losing his balance for a moment.
I take a step forward at him, deciding to take more punches toward his chest this time. “You’re an asshole!”Punch.“I can’t stand you!”Punch.“Why would you do this to me?”Punch.
I break, my knees buckling under me, almost sending me tumbling to the floor of my bedroom if it wasn’t for two arms catching me mid-fall.Tears are now free falling, and I can barely control my sobs as he pulls me closer.
My arms are still attempting to flail at him, but he holds them steady.
“Get off me!” I try to push away from him. “I don’t need you.”
“But you needsomeone,” he amends.
“Not you.” I try to back away again, but his grip is stronger than I thought it would be.
“Stop, Genevieve.”
For once, I listen.
I stop moving, letting my body completely relax into him for a moment too long. It’s tortuous that this feels nice.
“I-I can’t.” I pull away from him, backing up again. “I’ve known who you were for quite a while now, and part of me hoped you’d prove me wrong, but I know that you’re incapable of doing that. You are who you are, nothing will change that.”
