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He nods slowly, his voice lower now. "Yeah. I do. It feels strange, and it’s not easy, but I want it. I want her, Austin. Allof her. Even if it means sharing her. And that’s hard to admit, especially to you, but I can’t keep pretending it’s just some casual thing."
I feel like I’ve been hit with a freight train, and for a moment, I don’t know how to respond. The words I want to say are tangled up, too heavy to get out.
"So what do we do now?" I finally ask, the question hanging in the air between us.
Cohen takes a deep breath, his shoulders tense. "I don't know, man. But I don’t want to walk away from this. Not now. Not with her. It’s messy, but...it’s real." He looks me straight in the eyes. "I think I’ve fallen for her."
The weight of his confession settles over me, and for a moment, everything goes quiet. It’s almost suffocating. My chest tightens, and the words that have been swirling inside of me for days finally rise to the surface.
I swallow, trying to shake off the lump in my throat, but it's no use. "I think...I think I’ve got real feelings for her too."
The silence stretches between us, heavy and pregnant with possibilities. For a long moment, we both just sit there, the weight of what we’re saying finally starting to settle into place.
You need to figure out what you want," Cohen says finally, his voice steady. "She’s not gonna wait forever. Neither of us can keep dragging our feet."
I nod, but the ache in my chest tightens again. He’s right, and I know it. I’ve been pushing Skylar away, testing her, but I’ve never let myself truly admit how much I care. And now, I don’t know if she’s still waiting for me—or if she’s already moved on.
After the conversation with Cohen, something shifts inside me. The weight of it all, the mess I've created, and the confusion swirling around me—it's suddenly clear. I don’t want to push Skylar away anymore. I don’t want to keep pretending thatthe distance I’ve been creating between us is for some higher purpose, some noble reason.
It's because I'm scared.
But knowing what I don’t want doesn't make figuring out what I do want any easier. I’m stuck. Stuck between desperately wanting to fix this and being too damn scared to actually make the first move. I don’t know how to get back to her, how to bridge the gap I’ve created. The more I think about it, the more frustrated I become, and the more I feel like I’m drowning in this sea of uncertainty.
It’s hard to look at her sometimes, because when I do, I see everything I’ve messed up, everything I can’t fix with a single apology. I want to make things right, but every time I open my mouth, I feel like I’m just digging myself deeper into the hole I’ve already created.
But I can't sit in this mess forever. I need to know if there’s still something between us. If I’m not just holding on to something that doesn’t exist anymore.
So, I decide to test her.
I don’t know why I do it. Maybe it’s instinct, maybe it’s desperation. But I start pushing her, in small, subtle ways. Snide comments, little digs at her, trying to provoke some kind of reaction, something that’ll tell me where we stand.
"Don’t you think we’ve had enough of the silent treatment?" I throw out casually, watching her out of the corner of my eye as she sorts through some papers on the kitchen counter. It’s a jab, an attempt to get a rise out of her. She’s been quiet lately, distant in a way that’s hard to ignore.
Her eyes flick up, but she doesn’t bite. Instead, she just sighs, shaking her head. "Not everything has to be a confrontation, Austin."
I feel my jaw tighten. Of course she’s not biting. She’s too damn calm, too composed. It's like she’s already pulled away, already disconnected.
A few days later, I push again. "You know, I don’t really get why you’re so hung up on making everything so perfect. It’s like you’re trying to win some kind of award for being a saint or something." I throw out the words, sharp and biting, but I can’t ignore the way my heart starts to race.
Skylar’s eyes narrow, and for a moment, I think I’ve hit a nerve. But she doesn’t rise to it. She just shrugs, unfazed, her voice quiet but firm. "I don’t need an award, Austin. I just want to be left alone."
Her response stings. More than it should. It's like she's pulling away, inch by inch, and no matter how hard I try to provoke her, she just keeps retreating further into herself. And with every step she takes back, I feel my own frustration building. Why isn't she fighting for this? Why isn’t she reacting the way I want her to?
I refuse to back off, though. I can’t. I can’t be the one to give up on this. So, I keep pushing. A snide remark here, a sarcastic jab there. It’s like a game, but I’m the only one playing.
And as the days go on, I can’t ignore the way she’s pulling back more and more. The space between us grows wider, and every attempt I make to provoke her only seems to make things worse. It’s like I’m driving her further away, but I can’t stop myself. Every time she closes off, I feel more desperate to reach her, but the harder I push, the more she shuts down.
I feel sick to my stomach.
I realize it’s time to stop playing games. If I can’t get her to react the way I want, maybe I need to just ask her—ask her what she wants, what she’s feeling, where we stand. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll get the answer I need.
It’s time for an actual conversation.
I stride across the room, determination setting my jaw firm. Skylar's back is turned to me, her posture rigid, as if she’s bracing against an invisible storm. It's time I own up to my shit.
"Skylar," I call out, my voice sounding like I’m under control despite how I feel.
She pauses but doesn’t turn around.