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“I don’t.” I dig my fingers in and shake my head. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”
He pushes frustrated hands through his hair and laughs, sound and air, kicked out of his lungs in a sudden rush. “I’ve done everything you asked.” His hands slide to the back of his neck before flinging outward in a burst of angry energy. “Everything—even though I fucking hate it. I’ve lied to everyone. Ignored you when I see you walking down the hall at school. Let you push me away when you think someone might see—because I want to be with you,” he says it loud. Loud enough to wake my neighbors. “Why won’t you just let me be with you?”
I don’t care about my neighbors. I shout right back. “Be with me?” I lift myself onto my toes, shoving my face into his so we’re practically nose to nose. “Were you paying attention tonight? My dad is a fall-down drunk. My mother’s a whore, and my brother can’t be bothered with any of it. That leaves me. I’m the one who gets to mop up the piss and the puke. I’m the one. Me. No one else.”
“I’m here.” He shakes his head at me, brow furrowed. “I’m standing right here with you, Henley. I’m trying—”
“You don’t want to be with me. You feel sorry for me. You want to fix me.” I throw my hands up, gesturing wildly. “This isn’t hard. This is my life. My fucked-up, shitty life—and it’s never going to get better.”
“I tried. I tried, and I can’t figure it out.” He steps back, scrubbing his hands over his face while letting out a sharp bark of laughter. “So, just tell me, okay?” he says. “Just tell me what I have to do to convince you, and I’ll do it. Whatever it is, I’ll do—”
“How many girls have you slept with?”
The question cuts him off completely. He looks at me, mouth open, trying to wrap his head around it. “I—” he shakes his head. “I don’t—”
“It’s a simple question, Conner,” I say, pushing as much ice into my tone as I can. “You’re the genius, right? So, how many? Five? Ten? Fifty? Show me the mathematical equation you use to figure out how many girls you’ve screwed.”
“Why?” He stands there, staring at me like I spit on him. “Why does it matter?”
“Because none of them are me.” I push myself forward, advancing toward him, attacking him. “Because you say you want to be with me, but you don’t. You can’t even bring yourself to kiss me, let alone fuc—”
He lunges at me, his hands closing over my upper arm, tightening as pushes me back, pinning me against the wall. His lips hit mine, hard and angry, like a punch, and I’m struggling, trying to get my arms loose. Finally managing to get my arms from under his hands, I lift them, wrapping them around his neck to pull him closer. Despite the pent-up anger and frustration I feel in him, he’s holding back. I can feel it.
I push. Open my mouth under his to run my tongue along the seam of his lips.
Kiss me back. Please, kiss me back, Please—
Something inside him breaks loose. His arms slip around my waist, hands fisting in the back of my shirt. He yields. Kisses me until I’m dizzy until neither of us can breathe.
Suddenly, he pulls away with a groan. “Stop,” he says, his hands locking around my shoulders to push me back. “We have to stop.”
“What?” I feel like someone just yanked the rug out from under my feet. “Why?”
“Because.” He runs a hand over the top of his head before letting it fall to his side. “Because.”
“I don’t want to stop,” I tell him, suddenly feeling desperate. “I want...” I force myself forward. To take a chance. To believe him. “I want to.”
“I don’t,” he says quickly, holding out a hand to stop me from coming any closer. “Not with your dad passed out in the room next door and on the tail-end of a fight.” He shakes his head. “Not like that. Not with you.”
His rejection is all I hear. All I care about. “Then get out,” I tell him, my tone as cold and hard as ice.
“Please, Hen.” He’s shaking his head, brows knit tightly together. “Don’t make me do this.”
Make him.
Like being with me is something he’d have to force himself to do.
“Either you leave, or I start screaming.” I’ll do it. It’s already there, the knot of it seated in my belly, cold and tight, just waiting for me to let it loose.
“Pleas—”
I put his ring back on when I got to Tess’s, telling myself it was all a misunderstanding. We would talk and everything would be okay. I jerk off my finger and throw it at him and it pings wildly off the wall. “Leave.”
“Okay…” he nods his head, gaze wheeling around the room like he suddenly can’t stand the sight of me. “Okay, Henley. You win.”
Conner finally does what I’ve been pushing him to do for months.
He leaves me alone.