Page 71 of Rough
“I’m sorry,” I whisper back to her.
There’s sorrow in her voice when she answers me. “It’s done.”
“It’snot!” I grit out, denying her. This isn’t done. I won’t stand for it.
“What you painted is beautiful and I love it. But everythin’ before? It’s done. You can stop apologizin’ now and workin’ yourself to death.” Cupping my face, she digs her fingers in slightly before letting her hand fall away. “But this is done. I need you to stop.”
Pushing myself forward, I press my mouth to hers, leaving it there a moment before saying against her lips, “I won’t stop, Bets. I swear it on my dad’s grave.”
Her mouth stays closed, billows of air hitting my face as she breathes through her nose heavily. My promise is affecting both of us, and I refuse to pull away right now. Snaking my tongue out, I run the tip over the crease of her mouth, begging her to accept me. Not just the kiss, butme.
When she doesn’t give into me, doesn’t part her lips, I swipe my tongue over her lip again and press my mouth to hers harder. She stays unmoving, but I feel her fingers grip my shirt and twist it until it’s pulled tight in her fist like she isn’t sure if she wants to let me go.
Finally, I feel her lips move, and my moment of relief is crushed when she shudders out, “Your daddy doesn’t want your promises, and neither do I.” Pulling back from me, she stares up into my eyes, still holding onto my shirt. “I forgive you for the last week. I’m lettin’ it go. So should you, Remy.”
There’s a painful wrench in my chest as I shake my head to unhear it. “It’s a promise, nonetheless.”
Leaning away, she releases me and crawls out from underneath my body, where I’m hovering over her. Once she’s on her feet, she looks away and brushes off the dirt. “Yourmomma called me earlier, wantin’ to know when you all would be home. You should give her a ring.” Her eyes flick over to the tank again and a sad smile tips the corners of her mouth up. “Thank you for paintin’ my tank. It’s beautiful.”
“Bets—”
“Night, Remy.”
Leaving me kneeling, she walks away without a word to the guys and heads into her house, Lucy hot on her heels. The three of us ride back to my house in silence. Just before I walk up to my room, Clyde claps me on the shoulder.
“Think you did better than you think. Get some sleep. We’ll try again tomorrow.”
With a nod to him, I shut my door and fall into my bed without showering. I don’t sleep a wink that night; her smile keeping my heart clenched in a tight fist.
Chapter Thirty
Flashback
~ about 6 years ago ~ Remy
My arms are around Tara’s waist as we slow dance. I wasn’t overly excited about prom, but since we had been dating for the last six months, I felt obligated to take her. I know this girl isn’t “the one”, and I’m ready to end things, but it didn’t feel right doing it just before the big dance.
Wilder is dancing with another of our classmates behind me, and when he bumps into me on the floor, I turn to look at him. Tilting his chin up, he points toward Betsy. “You see who she came with?”
“No…” I trail off, looking toward where he indicated, only to find Betsy sitting at a table with her chin in her hand. Snickering, I smile at my friend. “She looks bored as hell. Who’s her date?”
“Ryan Hansley,” Clyde says as he walks over to us. “Come with me for a second.”
I scowl at Wilder. “Fuckin’Ryanasked her out?”
Releasing Tara, I apologize and tell her I’ll be right back. She doesn’t seem to care much, already walking off to find someoneelse to dance with. Yeah, she and I are about done. Not a moment too soon because just as we make it to the edge of the gym, I see her slip into the arms of Ryan. Betsy’s date.
“He’s dancing with Tara,” I point out. Clyde shakes his head in disgust and crosses his arms.
“She told me earlier that Ryan couldn’t pick her up and her Pap needed the truck.” He’s staring at where she’s sitting in her pretty blue dress, the strap slipping down her shoulder because it’s a touch too loose on her body. “She drove herself over in her truck and it sputtered out right as she was parkin’.”
“For fuck’s sake,” I groan out. “That truck has been needin’ fixin’ for months. The hell is she drivin’ it for?”
The song we were dancing to ends, and we all watch as Ryan heads back over to where Betsy is sitting, alone. She didn’t tell me who she was coming with, but she was excited that someone asked her to prom.Sofuckin’ excited.
“He’s drunk,” Wilder mutters, and I realize he’s right. Ryan is swaying side to side, practically sitting in Betsy’s lap when he leans down to talk to her. A surge of protection fills me when she shoves him away, and he grabs her bicep, yelling something into her face.
“Yeah, fuck this shit. I’m gonna take her home. Let Tara know I’ll be back, would ya?” I say to both of them, then storm over to where he’s trying to drag Betsy out of her seat.
