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My skin feels like it’s a thousand degrees. I remove my hands and look at him. “I don’t know what I’d say to him if I did.”
His face falls, a thousand different emotions flooding his eyes. “I won’t say anything. You can go back to your new life and pretend this never happened. If that’s what you want.”
My hands find his and then his shoulders, hoping he’ll look at me, really look at me, and see that even though I have no idea what I’m going to say to Agustin, I still have feelings for him.
He stares at me, intensity in his eyes. My will caves under the weight of his stare. My life is absolute and he’s indestructible. “Do you regret it?”
“No,” I whisper, never looking away as I reach up and trace the edge of his face, running my fingers over his temple and cheekbone, touching him the way I always had before any of this happened.
Kissing me again, softer this time, his eyes close and excitement bursts inside me. With his fingers on my face, they slip down and trace my collarbone. This connection we have can’t be broken and I know in that moment, Roan will always be a part of my life, regardless of my decision.
“I hate that it’s not easy,” I mutter.
“Nothing ever is with us.”
He’s right. It’s not. It’s… you’re too young. It’s… stay young, honey. It’s… I’m leaving for Austria. I’m in Germany. I’m away at summer school. My dad might find out. Your sponsors might find out…. Nothingeverworked out for us. And for a long time, I kept holding out hope that it would, but maybe this was it for us. Maybe we’d never have forever because it wasn’t meant to be.
“This is something you’re to going have to decide. I can’t do it for you,” Roan finally says, standing up. After adjusting himself, and me laughing and blushing, he reaches for my hand. “This is a decision you need to make on your own. I’ll take you back in the morning.” He draws me close, his arm around the back of my neck. “After I take a long, cold shower,” he teases, his breath against my ear, his laughter tickling my neck.
I rest my head on him, wishing this was different because this—us walking on the beach together—is exactly how I imagined our future. Only it seems too far away. “I’m sorry. I really am.”
“I didn’t say I was giving up,” he warns, his smile smooth and relaxed.
Fear pricks my chest. What does he mean by that?
I read this quote once by Johnny Depp. I had a huge crush on him when I was six, but years later this popped up somewhere and made me think. He said,“If you love two people at the same time, choose the second. Because if you really loved the first one, you wouldn’t have fallen for the second.”
In my case though, who’s the second and who’s the first? I think in some ways, the girl in me is still in love with Roan. And the woman, if you can call a twenty-two-year-old girl a woman, she’s drawn to the stability of the man who pulled her through depression. The one who was there when she didn’t think anyone else was.
But… how can you love someone with half your heart?
You can’t. Not truly. Not forever.
Roan’s lips brush my temple. I notice he’s limping. I stop walking and look down at his leg fearing he hurt himself somehow. “What’s wrong?”
Shifting his stance, he drops his arm from around my shoulder to adjust himself yet again. “My dick is still hard. Makes it hard to walk.”
I laugh, louder than I intend to. “Maybe you need to take that shower now.”
He glances out of the corner of his eye at me, then winks. “I think I need more than a cold shower.”
Panic rises in my throat, the realization of his implications weighing down on me. Twisting in his arms, he stares down at me, the waves lapping at our feet.
His hands cup my cheeks, his thumb brushing over my lips. His hooded eyes drop to where he’s tracing. His breathing is ragged when he admits, “God, I want to fuck you so bad. I want to shove my cock between these sweet plump lips and come in your mouth.”
His words paint a detailed picture of our time together behind closed doors. Me on my knees, sucking him off and the way he begged for more when I took his dick piercing between my lips and tugged gently. Between the visual and his dirty words, it sends a spark of electricity through my entire body and I want everything he’s saying. I want it so badly I’m willing to give up everything to have it. Leaning in, I press my lips to his, but he draws back.
“I can’t,” he whispers, creating distance, coherent in his control. “Not until you’re mine. All mine.”
All his? Can I do that?
And then he’s staring at me, as if I have to make that decision now. Only, I can’t. Not when everything else between us is undecided. I look to the ocean, as if it will somehow hold an answer, only nothing comes. Instead I’m met with more. I think about what he said earlier.
“I won’t say anything.”
It’s then I remember his lie.
“I didn’t fuck that girl in Athens.”