Page 37 of Love Thy Brother
I tossed the chip box in a nearby bin and straightened.
“Riv.”
“Stop saying my fucking name.”
“If you walk away right now, I’m gonna shout it to the seagulls.”
“Good luck with that.”
In my head, I was already gone. But my heart won out and I didn’t move.
Rubi tossed his box and water bottle. He unfolded his giant self from the wall and gestured—gave mepermission—to move off.
I hate him.
No. I hated myself for obeying. That it soothed me in some weird, fucked-up way to let him make decisions for me.
He let his hand drift to the small of my back, big hand splayed across my spine.
I liked that too, until I didn’t.
Until Icouldn’t.
I sidestepped, swerving out of his reach.
Rubi sighed. “Why won’t you let me touch you?”
“I did let you touch me.”
And you left.
But I’d let him touch me since then. In the pub. Same thing. A hand on my back. An anchor he’d rip away the moment I got used to it.
My house came up on us too fast. As much as I wanted him to fuck off, I wasn’t ready for him to be gone. My footsteps slowed and I found myself sitting on the garden wall again, waiting for him to fill the space in front of me.
He stopped closer this time, sucking oxygen out of the atmosphere, stealing my awareness of anything that wasn’t the balmy warmth radiating from his body.
I remembered his skin sliding against mine. His hot hands and frantic mouth. The tremble in his chest that had confused me at the time and I hadn’t allowed myself to think about since.
“I don’t remember.”
Fuck. What if he’d been trashed too?
He doesn’t do drugs.
He drank, though. Too much sometimes.
“I was finding it hard to stop, you know?”
“Were you drunk?”
Rubi loomed over me. “When?”
“The night I let you in my house.”
“That’s what you’re calling it?”
“You want me to think of something else?”
