Page 75 of Little Paper Games
“Well, it didn’t fucking work! I’m pissed at you!” She was breathing quickly, and I could see her anger rising.
"It did work! I dealt with it. Or at least as much as I could. I went and stayed with my mother and I thought about what all has happened. I thought about it all, Kenna. The good, the bad, the ugly. Was it the best way to handle it? No, but guess what? I'm not perfect. And, for the record, I'm pissed at you, too!"
“Then why the hell didn’t you just talk to me?!”
“Why didn’t you talk to me for almost seven years about such a horrific thing? Thatyoublamedmefor!?” I knew I was yelling, making a scene, and matching her aggressive stance.
“Why didn’t…. why…?” she sputtered out.
“Don’t have an answer for that?” I bit out sarcastically.
“I just… I…” she stuttered again.
“You just what?” I pushed further, walking around the table and getting closer to her.
“I’m just sorry,” she finally whispered, her entire demeanor wilting in defeat.
“And I’m sorry for disappearing,” I whispered back, my hands moving up and down her arms. “I shouldn’t have left, but I was hurt and confused.”
“But, why?” she asked again, still looking lost and defeated.
“Because you didn’t talk to me. I had to process and deal with the fact that you thought it was me. Not that you were told that I was behind it, but that without a question, you believed it. That wrecked me, Kenna. Can’t you see that?” I begged her to understand. I needed her to understand.
“I should have talked to you,” she admitted, her hands fisting at the stomach of my shirt.
“I should have stayed and talked to you too,” I agreed. “Now I’m just …”
“Just what?” she asked, refusing to look at me again.
“I’m just mad. I wanted this to work. And now that it won’t…” I trailed off.
“Won’t work?” she questioned again; her gaze completely confused.
“I know you’re dating that guy now and —”
“Who? Wait, do you mean Todd?!” she asked. It took everything I had to not growl at her in disdain.
“Listen, Todd is —”
“No, I don’t want to hear about it!” I argued, cutting her off.
“Just listen, Jude!” she tossed right back.
“No!” My hands found her upper arms, gripping her tight. She was so close, and if I hadn’t been so stupid; if I hadn’t taken so much time, she would have been mine.
“Jude, I just —”
I didn’t let her explain. I pushed her back against the wall behind my table, my lips finding hers without much of a thought. I’d wanted her lips under mine more than I wanted air in my lungs. Her lips molded under mind like water, succumbing to every push, every pull of my lips.
“I can’t stand the thought of you with him,” I snarled out, my breath coming fast.
“Then don’t,” she breathed out, taking my lips with her own and pulling me in tighter. My body pushed against hers and I felt my addiction to her reignite.
“I can’t. I shouldn’t. I—” I sputtered out, the cradle of her hips making me want to rip every piece of bagging clothing off of her and claim her as my own; mine alone.
“I’m not with him. I cancelled the date,” she admitted, pulling away and our eyes meeting. Two whole seconds passed before I let out a relieved, and needy, sigh.
“Thank fucking God. I want you as mine, Kenna Clarke. Only mine.” My words may have been crude and subpar, but they were true. Wholly and completely true.
