Page 64 of Play Dirty
Still nothing.
My throat closes. I hate how small I feel. How small I sound when I beg him once again. “Nico, look at me.”
This time, his hands ball up at his sides. Still, he doesn’t turn.
I inch closer, a sob strangles my throat, but I swallow it back down. Trying to keep my voice steady, I ask. “Do I remind you of him?”
That makes him flinch, barely. But it’s enough.
His shoulders shake. He presses both palms into the locker in front of him as if grounding himself. Then finally, he speaks. “What do you want me to say, Shi?”
I step forward. “Anything, please look at me.” He doesn’t. “Please.” My voice breaks in the end, a tear sliding down my face as my hand flattens out between his shoulder blades. I can feel how much my touch causes him to flinch before his muscles lock up.
It’s painful for him…. To be touched. “Did she know?”
He shakeshis head. No.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“But I am. So I'll ask you again, why won’t you look at me?”
Nico slams his hand into the metal locker; the sound is loud, and it scares me. That’s when he turns; his face hurts. “Don’t be scared, I couldn't hurt you even if I wanted to.”
“What does that mean?”
I grab his arm, forcing him to face me, but then guilt claws at me. I’m no better than those who have forced him to obey. I’m doing the same, but I’m not him. I’m not my father. Just please look at me. Show me that I’m not him.
My eyes plead…
“Just go back to class, Blondie.”
“No, not until you look at me. I’m not my father.” I finally snap, stepping in front of him, forcing him to acknowledge the truth.
“What do you want me to say? That your eyes anchored me during the darkest time of my life and tainted me all at once? That I wanted you so bad it hurt to drive you away? That I couldn’t even fuck the woman who gave me so much love, so much patience?” He breathes heavily. “Wanna know how much that fucked with me seeing the eyes I adored on the very man who destroyed me? How fucked it was to be in love with a woman you can’t even look at?”
I freeze.
His eyes are on me now. Exposing me, burning through me. His lips part, and the rain is still dripping off the tips of his hair. “I’m so fucking tired of pretending, Shiloh. I’m so fucking tired of all of this, but I cannot look at you and not be reminded of him.” His voice is low now and hits harder than any insult could ever.
“So stop pretending,” I whisper. Slowly, I reach for his jaw. The touch makes him grimace. “I’m not my father. Why can’t you see that?”
He scoffs and pulls away. “Because his eyes are all I see.”
I want to stophim from pulling away, but instead, I give him the choice that everyone has taken away from him.
“Fine. I’ll leave.” The resignation feels bittersweet, something relatively easy yet so hard at the same time. I regret the words as soon as they come flying out of my lying mouth; they feel like a betrayal of everything I came here for, but I do mean them. I mean them so much that, like the moment June showed any interest in him, I backed away.
This feels the same except I’m not walking away from my best friend. I’m walking away from everything I ever wanted just so I can give him the respect that he deserves. If not seeing me is what helps him cope, then so be it. The ball is in his court.
I let out a deep, shaky breath before heading back towards the doors, my fingers brushing over the lock, still holding out for him to reconsider. Not sure what I truly expect at this point, but just as resignation floods through me, his voice stops me.
“Don’t.” His voice is hoarse, raw, and low. It guts me and lights me up all at once.
And then I feel him move faster than I can think. One minute, he’s behind me, and the next, he’s between me and the door. Grabbing my wrist, not hard, but applying enough pressure to keep him tethered. Like he’s afraid I’ll disappear or maybe him. Like I'm the last anchor he has before he descends into darkness.
His eyes finally meet mine. Blue clashes with brown.
And they wreck me.
