Page 64 of Clashing
My chest crumpled in on itself. “I wouldn’t stop hanging out with Danny because of you.”
“Good.” Her shoulders lowered. “Then we can be normal.”
“Normal.” Normal sounded fucking terrible.
The world’s best pasta rested unfinished in our bowls. She picked at it with her fork but didn’t take another bite. I’d never turned down good food but the longer I sat there, the more I couldn’t breathe. I pushed the bowl away and stood.
Her response was like everything had been between us from the beginning—a strange sense of having known each other longer than we had. She always knew what I was doing. Always somehow in my head. So when I stood, she did too and approached the door, aware of my intentions.
She opened it and waved me ahead but none of it seemed real. It was more like we were actors playing parts. I paused in the doorframe. The ache in my chest built to an unbearable pressure. I needed it to release, and she was the only way it could. Turning around, I cupped her face and kissed her.
Her lips molded to mine, their shape perfectly made to fit against my mouth. She moaned and that unforgettable sound echoed in the chambers of my mind where I hoped it continued bouncing for eternity. Ineededher.
“One more time,” I murmured against her lips. “Let me have you one more time, Scarlett.Please.”
The sadness in her dark eyes knocked into me so hard, I almost stumbled from the impact. She gazed up at me for a moment, biting her lip. I knew that look. She felt it too. The crackling between us. I was certain she’d say yes but then she backed away, shaking her head.
“I can’t.” She gripped the door. “I’ll see you around.”
The last grain slipped between my fingers and my knees threatened to give out. She gave me a small smile that didn’t have a hint of genuineness, then shut the door. I remained outside it, the touch of her soft lips lingering on mine.
My throat thickened and I stuffed my hands in my pockets, every step away from her an agonizing pierce through the chest. “See you around.”
Chapter twenty
Mom
Scarlett
WhenIwasfifteen,I thought I was in love. We had nothing in common, but he was the first boy I had sex with and a weird part of me thought that meant I should stay with him, even though I was miserable. My mom pointed out that staying with him for that was insane and I distinctly remembered telling her, “You don’t understand. I’m in love!”
Except I wasn’t. He broke up with me and I laughed. He was confused. I was happy he did it so I wouldn’t have to. Definitely not love.
With Ryker? It’d only been a couple months, and we weren’t together. But my heart split when he said he didn’t have feelings for me. When he left, I shattered. It couldn’t be anything but love. Ryker crashed into my life like a lightning storm, each strike vibrant and powerful but gone too quickly.
I told him I could be normal. I could, but I needed time.
Regardless of it not being a real breakup, I treated it like one. A week went by, and I avoided the bar so I wouldn’t see him. I stayed in bed crying. I listened to depressing music to cry more. However, it wasn’t all awful. A pile of commissions came in and I finally got the money I needed for that class. I had things to look forward to. Things to focus on.
By the end of the week, my tear ducts almost dried out and I poured my energy into a deep clean of my apartment. Mom took off work to care for Dan and would be here any minute. Dan acted annoyed about us fussing over him, but he was excited to see Mom. As was I. I could use a mom hug and the therapy I’d started made me realize I needed her for that too.
I planned to tell her what happened with Todd.
While I organized my pencils, charcoals, and brushes on my art desk, the familiar faded red of an old Honda caught my eye out the window. A squeal erupted out of me, and I sprinted to the kitchen sink to scrub the charcoal off my fingers. Within seconds, I flung open my door and raced downstairs.
I lifted my foot off the last step and the bar doors swung open. Dark, curly hair piled on her head and a worn Van Halen shirt took me back to my younger days and the familiar comfort she always provided. A wide smile spread across her face, the kind that whisperedhomewithout words.
She opened her arms. I ran.
“Mom!”
I didn’t care about the scene we created. I fuckingmissedmy mom. Dropping her purse, she wrapped her arms around me in that way only a mom could. Snug, warm, and powerful enough to melt the tension in my shoulders.
She kissed the side of my head and swayed us. “I missed you so much, sweetie.”
I might’ve been suffocating, but I refused to let go. “I missed you too.”
“Let me look at you.”
