Page 41 of Deliah
“Not like what?” I snapped. “Oh, I get it. You think you know me now, huh? Prince fucking Charming. You think you know exactly what I need?”
He didn’t respond.
“YOU DON’T KNOW ME,” I screamed, suddenly shaking. “YOU HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA WHAT I WANT.”
Then he moved.
Not away.
Towards me.
He wrapped his arms around me. Fast. Firm. Gentle. And everything inside me shattered. I sobbed. Loud, ugly sobs that sounded like they’d been waiting in my lungs for months. All the pain. The heartbreak. The shame. The guilt. The ache of being too much and never enough. I cried so hard I couldn’t breathe, and when my knees buckled, he held me tighter. He didn’t say a word. No platitudes. No promises. Just silence. And arms strong enough to carry my wildness. At some point, I must’ve passed out—exhaustion hitting like a freight train. I don’t remember when. Just that the world blurred, and I felt weightless. He carried me to bed. Tucked me in like I was something precious. Sat beside me for a moment, fingertips brushing hair from my face. And then, somewhere between sleep and survival, I heard him whisper it.
“You deserve so much more, Deliah…”
A pause. A breath.
“…but you’re not ready yet.”
By the time I opened my eyes, he was gone.
Chapter 16 –
Even Poison Tastes Like Comfort
The next day, daylight crept through the blinds like guilt. My head was pounding. My mouth was dry, my stomach hollow. I sat up slowly, nausea curling behind my ribs. The apartment was quiet. His jacket was gone. So was he. I looked around like maybe he’d left a note. A sign. Anything. But there was nothing. Just a half-drunk glass of water on the counter. I ran a hand over my face, and it came back smudged with mascara. And all I could think was:What the fuck have I done?I’d shown him everything. The mess. The rage. The damage. I’d used him like a painkiller and pushed him away like poison. And he’d held me through it. Then left. And I couldn’t even blame him. This was the part where I realised I might havealready lost the one person who saw me and didn’t flinch. The one who stayed—right up until I proved I didn’t know how to let someone stay.
I’d barely woken up, and my shift was starting in a couple of hours. I’d slept through most of the afternoon, if you could even call it sleep. The weight of the night before sat heavy in my stomach. Thick and nauseating. Every word I’d thrown at Damion echoed in my skull like an unwanted soundtrack.How can I love someone like that? You don’t know me. What the fuck are you even doing here?
I’d been messy and unhinged. Slurring and sobbing and using him like some kind of emotional sponge. Why would he want to be involved in this shit? In me?
Then the door burst open. Cherry came stumbling in, laughing way too loudly for how fragile I felt.
“I just got the sack!” she announced like she was sharing a pregnancy test.
I jolted upright. “You what?”
She collapsed onto the edge of my bed, still in yesterday’s makeup and a hoodie that definitely wasn’t hers.
“Yep. Apparently, everyone saw Tommy and me dry-humping down the strip. Archie rang—said I’m officially done.”
“For fuck’s sake, Cherry.” I rubbed my eyes. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” she said too quickly, half laughing.
But her eyes didn’t match the smile. They were glassy, too bright. She was scared. I knew that look. Scared she’d blown everything for a boy who might not stick around.
Scared she’d misread the signals, that it meant more to her than it did to him. Still, she tried to brush it off.
“Anyway. What happened to you last night?” she asked, toeing off her shoes. “I saw you leave with Damion...”
I hesitated. My throat felt dry again, like my body was warning me not to speak it out loud. “He walked me home,” I said. “That’s all.”
She raised a brow. “That’s all?”
I nodded. Forced a shrug. “I don’t have the energy to explain.”
“You two are weird,” she muttered. “He’s a quiet one, but fucking fit.”
