Unwritten
Page 44
“Just go.”
I back away numbly.
She’s right, a cruel voice whispers in my mind. You’re not the man for her, you’ve already hurt her more than she can stand.
You can’t love her the way she deserves, you can’t be brave enough to let her in.
What are you waiting for? Just leave already.
I head for the door. But as I’m walking away, out of nowhere I remember that first day we met, out on the back steps at that fancy school of hers. Zoey was all alone, and I remember taking pity on her. She was just a lonely kid, I figured a few words of encouragement would mean a lot to her, so I stuck around. I shared a candy bar, and told her it would all get better. I enjoyed acting as if I had it all together, like I was older and wiser than her, someone with all the answers.
It was bullshit then, and it’s bullshit now. Zoey’s changed—she’s grown up and gotten her life together. She knows what she wants, and she’s brave enough to make a move. But I’m still just the same as I was back then: coasting by on charm and playing make-believe. Too hurt and scared to make a real connection. Still pretending like I don’t need more, and all the while, secretly waiting for it all to fall apart and prove me right.
I don’t want to live like this anymore.
My feet stop moving. My body turns. And before I can stop myself, my mouth opens, and the truth comes pouring out.
Not someone else’s script. Not a glib reply. But the truest thing I’ve ever told her.
“I’m scared, Zoey,” I admit. “I’m scared as hell. Because I’m falling in love with you, and I don’t know what to do.”
17.
Zoey
I stare at Blake in amazement. Of all the things he could have said, of all the words to say, I never saw this coming.
I never dared to dream.
“Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear.” I clench my fists to keep from reaching for him. “Please.” I hear my voice waver, but I don’t care. “I need you to be real.”
“I am being real.”
In an instant, he closes the distance between us. Blake grips my hands tightly, and I can see the conflict in his eyes, the fevered anguish on his face. “God, Zoey, this is more real than anything I’ve felt before, and it scares me half to death. I can’t pretend with you,” he swears, “I can’t just blow you off like all the other girls. You know me, you know everything that’s happened, my family, my parents, all the darkness, and I…” He stops, frustrated, searching for the words. “I thought I could keep this casual, keep it safe. Be light, and breezy or whatever, stop you from getting under my skin. But it didn’t work, Zoey, I couldn’t keep away from you if I tried. You’re here, right here.”
Blake lifts my hand, pressing it to his heart, and I feel my own heart ache in answer.
I try to catch my breath, still not sure I can believe him. I thought that night we got together in the city would be the start of everything, but he pulled away. How can I be sure I won’t wake up tomorrow to find the bed empty?
How can I be sure my heart will be safe in his hands?
“I know you want to say the right thing,” I whisper. “I know that’s what you do. You want to make things better for everyone. But I can’t take you running hot and cold. You need to make a choice, Blake. For real this time.”
“I do,” Blake insists. His eyes blaze into mine, full of determination. “I choose you.”
I feel my walls crack open, and the last of my resistance falling away. I’ve never seen him like this—so open and vulnerable, hurting in plain sight. It moves me like nothing else that he’d show this side of himself to me.
That he’d trust me enough to try.
I slowly exhale, smoothing my hand over his wet shirt. I can feel his heart beating, fast beneath my fingertips.
What a heart this man has. So full of hope for everyone except himself.
If he can be brave, then I can too. I can tell him the secret I’ve been hiding all these years, the one that’s brought me to this moment, right now.
“I’ve been falling in love with you since the very first day we met,” I whisper.
Blake inhales in a rush. I can see the words sink in, the flare of relief and wonder in his eyes.
“Zoey…”
I reach up and lay my hand against the rough heat of his cheek. I’m scared of falling any deeper into this, falling and finding nobody there to catch me when I hit the ground, but I have to take this risk.
I have to fight for what I want.
“I’m here for you, Blake,” I promise. “I’m here if you’ll let me in. I swear, I won’t let you down. If you trust me, I’ll be there until the end.”
He holds my waist, holds me like a drowning man, clinging on for dear life. And when he kisses me, I can taste the fever in his blood, the wild singing of hope and relief, and every moment he’s carried himself alone—apart from everyone, pretending to be fine.
But there’s nothing pretend in these kisses. Nothing faked in the clutch of his hands on my wet shirt, the heat of our bodies pressing tighter. The deep, slow stroke of our tongues, as I drink him in, savor him, hold on just as tightly as he’s holding me.
I break away. “Come on,” I whisper, pulling him towards the bathroom. “Let’s get out of these wet clothes.”
Blake follows. The bathroom is tiny, barely room for the both of us, but it doesn’t matter. I reach to turn on the shower, and then tug his shirt over his head. Blake peels off my sweater, slow and reverent, his gaze fixed on mine. One by one, our clothing falls to the floor, until we’re both naked, stumbling back under the hot spray, steam fogging the glass around us.
I back away numbly.
She’s right, a cruel voice whispers in my mind. You’re not the man for her, you’ve already hurt her more than she can stand.
You can’t love her the way she deserves, you can’t be brave enough to let her in.
What are you waiting for? Just leave already.
I head for the door. But as I’m walking away, out of nowhere I remember that first day we met, out on the back steps at that fancy school of hers. Zoey was all alone, and I remember taking pity on her. She was just a lonely kid, I figured a few words of encouragement would mean a lot to her, so I stuck around. I shared a candy bar, and told her it would all get better. I enjoyed acting as if I had it all together, like I was older and wiser than her, someone with all the answers.
It was bullshit then, and it’s bullshit now. Zoey’s changed—she’s grown up and gotten her life together. She knows what she wants, and she’s brave enough to make a move. But I’m still just the same as I was back then: coasting by on charm and playing make-believe. Too hurt and scared to make a real connection. Still pretending like I don’t need more, and all the while, secretly waiting for it all to fall apart and prove me right.
I don’t want to live like this anymore.
My feet stop moving. My body turns. And before I can stop myself, my mouth opens, and the truth comes pouring out.
Not someone else’s script. Not a glib reply. But the truest thing I’ve ever told her.
“I’m scared, Zoey,” I admit. “I’m scared as hell. Because I’m falling in love with you, and I don’t know what to do.”
17.
Zoey
I stare at Blake in amazement. Of all the things he could have said, of all the words to say, I never saw this coming.
I never dared to dream.
“Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear.” I clench my fists to keep from reaching for him. “Please.” I hear my voice waver, but I don’t care. “I need you to be real.”
“I am being real.”
In an instant, he closes the distance between us. Blake grips my hands tightly, and I can see the conflict in his eyes, the fevered anguish on his face. “God, Zoey, this is more real than anything I’ve felt before, and it scares me half to death. I can’t pretend with you,” he swears, “I can’t just blow you off like all the other girls. You know me, you know everything that’s happened, my family, my parents, all the darkness, and I…” He stops, frustrated, searching for the words. “I thought I could keep this casual, keep it safe. Be light, and breezy or whatever, stop you from getting under my skin. But it didn’t work, Zoey, I couldn’t keep away from you if I tried. You’re here, right here.”
Blake lifts my hand, pressing it to his heart, and I feel my own heart ache in answer.
I try to catch my breath, still not sure I can believe him. I thought that night we got together in the city would be the start of everything, but he pulled away. How can I be sure I won’t wake up tomorrow to find the bed empty?
How can I be sure my heart will be safe in his hands?
“I know you want to say the right thing,” I whisper. “I know that’s what you do. You want to make things better for everyone. But I can’t take you running hot and cold. You need to make a choice, Blake. For real this time.”
“I do,” Blake insists. His eyes blaze into mine, full of determination. “I choose you.”
I feel my walls crack open, and the last of my resistance falling away. I’ve never seen him like this—so open and vulnerable, hurting in plain sight. It moves me like nothing else that he’d show this side of himself to me.
That he’d trust me enough to try.
I slowly exhale, smoothing my hand over his wet shirt. I can feel his heart beating, fast beneath my fingertips.
What a heart this man has. So full of hope for everyone except himself.
If he can be brave, then I can too. I can tell him the secret I’ve been hiding all these years, the one that’s brought me to this moment, right now.
“I’ve been falling in love with you since the very first day we met,” I whisper.
Blake inhales in a rush. I can see the words sink in, the flare of relief and wonder in his eyes.
“Zoey…”
I reach up and lay my hand against the rough heat of his cheek. I’m scared of falling any deeper into this, falling and finding nobody there to catch me when I hit the ground, but I have to take this risk.
I have to fight for what I want.
“I’m here for you, Blake,” I promise. “I’m here if you’ll let me in. I swear, I won’t let you down. If you trust me, I’ll be there until the end.”
He holds my waist, holds me like a drowning man, clinging on for dear life. And when he kisses me, I can taste the fever in his blood, the wild singing of hope and relief, and every moment he’s carried himself alone—apart from everyone, pretending to be fine.
But there’s nothing pretend in these kisses. Nothing faked in the clutch of his hands on my wet shirt, the heat of our bodies pressing tighter. The deep, slow stroke of our tongues, as I drink him in, savor him, hold on just as tightly as he’s holding me.
I break away. “Come on,” I whisper, pulling him towards the bathroom. “Let’s get out of these wet clothes.”
Blake follows. The bathroom is tiny, barely room for the both of us, but it doesn’t matter. I reach to turn on the shower, and then tug his shirt over his head. Blake peels off my sweater, slow and reverent, his gaze fixed on mine. One by one, our clothing falls to the floor, until we’re both naked, stumbling back under the hot spray, steam fogging the glass around us.
