Page 46 of Unspoken Confessions
As I did so, things that I’d missed in this whole conversation had started to ring loud and clear in my mind. I’d been a little too focused on what Jen was saying about me to take in the other half of what came out of his mouth.
Had he just said what I think he said?
No, not about me. The part about Jameson.
Did he… want me?
Had he been thinking about me while Jen was coming on to him? Had he been wishing that I was the one in front of him?
Had he wanted to kiss me that day as much as I wanted him to?
This was turning into some kind of trashy talk show. You know, the kind that you just can’t turn off.
Where the hell did all of this come from? I couldn’t wrap my head around what would make Jen waltz in here and stir up shit like this. My head was spinning so fast I started to feel dizzy. If I wasn’t so confused, mixed up, and angry, I might have seen there was something deeper going on here. But as it was, I was frozen in place and thinking of all the ways I could turn this around so it didn’t look as bad as it sounded.
“Now, I’m done,” Jen said trying his hardest to sound flippant. “I’m off to find someone that might look at me the way the two of you have been doing behind each other’s backs. Or will at least give me attention for five minutes and fuck away this feeling of loneliness from watching the two of you dance around each other all the time.”
I could tell he was trying his hardest to force his usual bold and playful attitude but behind it, I could hear the sadness. His attempt to distract me and play this whole thing off wasn’t going to work. The trust had broken between us and I wasn’t even sure why the hell he’d done it.
He turned and headed for the door.
“You’re fired,” I said but it lacked the punch I wanted.
“Right. Yep. Uh-huh.” He opened the door. “See you tomorrow.”
Then he was gone and I was left standing there with my mouth hanging open.
My vision blurred as the blood pumping through my ears grew louder. I couldn’t look at Jameson. Despite the fact that I wanted nothing more than to sink into the floor, I knew there was no getting out of this. His attention was on me. I could feel his eyes. I wasn’t going to cry, but I felt like I really wanted to.
Cry.
Scream.
Throw things and stomp my feet.
Maybe I should have given in to all of those things I felt the urge to do. Just get it all out.
And I meant it all.
The rage. The self-hatred. The frustration of having to hide the real me. The things I craved but constantly denied myself.
My fingers curled, fists balled up so tight that I could feel my blunt nails digging into my palms. Could I draw blood if I kept going? Would it help me feel better if I did?
Finally, I dragged my eyes to meet his. My heart pounded in my chest so hard it felt like it was going to burst at any second. Panic was thick in my veins and I was scared. So fucking scared.
But what I saw I couldn’t understand. There was a softness in his gaze, which was already on me. It wasn’t hazy like the last time I’d looked at him. He wasn’t looking through me, no, he was looking at me. Seeing me. I didn’t understand it. Perhaps, it was something along the lines of pity. Whatever it was, I was sure I didn’t like it. I didn’t want it. And I sure as fuck didn’t want to feel like I needed it.
Then his lips parted like he was going to say something.
But would he? I waited, breath held, hope flickering deep in my chest. Even if he did speak, which I was sure he wasn’t going to, I didn’t think that I really wanted to hear whatever words he had to say about this situation. I didn’t want the first words I’d hear him speak to me— without them seeming like they had been ripped from him out of fear— to be like this. I couldn’t handle it if he tried to comfort me right now or even tell me that it would be alright. I didn’t want him to tell me I was stupid for thinking that I could hide something like this forever. Or even point out that I was in no way fooling anyone with the way I’d been carrying on.
Actually, I was pretty sure I would crumble if he said anything to me.
So I jumped the gun, giving him the out I was sure he was desperate for.
“This never happened,” I said flatly. I pulled all the strength I had from within and ripped the emotions away from my face. “I won’t talk about it and it’s best for both of us if we forgot what was said in here today.”
I headed for the door, leaving him still sitting there as motionless and stiff as a statue on the couch. I hesitated at the door, turning my head to talk over my shoulder. I thought I was done, but I guess a little part of me snapped inside.
“You have no room to judge me,” I said, a hint of anger slipping out. “Clearly, you have secrets of your own. And as long as we keep hiding behind our thick walls, no one gets hurt, right?”
I turned the knob and stalked out of the room without a glance back.
With every step I took, I prayed he wouldn’t come running after me.
And at the same time, I wished he would.
