Page 177 of Dear Love, I Hate You (Easton High)

I stumble back a step, taking it all in.

“I know it’s a lot, but you have to understand. I didn’t have a choice. My mom… She…” Xavier bites his inner cheek, the right words slipping through his fingers.

His bloodshot eyes stab me straight in the gut.

He’s falling apart.

Crumbling to pieces in front of me.

Right now, Easton High’s god is but a mere mortal. A fallen king who gave up his crown and abandoned his kingdom.

For a short, fleeting moment, he’s one of us.

He hurts.

He bleeds.

And he’s scared.

Just like me.

“My mom could go to jail, Vee,” Xavier croaks and plops down on one of the kitchen chairs. He props his elbows on his spread legs, nestling his head in his hands as strands of his brown hair fall between us like a curtain.

I sit on the chair in front of him.

“I thought I was doing the right thing. Protecting my family, but then last night…” He clenches his fists. “When I saw this Logan motherfucker on top of you… Your torn dress. Fuck, I thought I was going to kill someone. I didn’t give a shit about my mom, or Brie, or anyone. All I cared about was you. The bastard never would’ve laid a hand on you if I…”

I can’t imagine the pressure he’s been under. I can’t imagine having to decide between throwing your own mother to the wolves or breaking a heart. I get why he did it, as horrible and cruel as his methods were.

Frankly, I would’ve done the same thing.

“I don’t fucking know how to choose, Vee.” He looks up at me, overwhelmed in every sense of the word. “I… I can’t.”

A lone tear escapes his puppy dog eyes and drizzles down his perfect face, coming to die on his lips.

My heart shatters.

He’s crying.

Instinctively, I seize his face into my palms, the magnetic pull between us too strong to withstand. I clean the tear off his bottom lip with my thumb and mesh my mouth with his so hard you’d think I’m trying to suck him dry, and I am. I want to take his suffering, the criminal mother, the broken family.

All of it.

No doubt.

No hesitation.

I’d sink my own ship to keep him afloat.

But I can’t. So, instead… I give him all of me, and hope like hell that it’s enough. The kiss is messy, raw, wet from all the crying. A low grunt sounds from somewhere deep in his throat, and Xav grips my wrist, guiding me onto his lap.

I settle on top of him, straddling him, and his arms box me in. His tongue darts out to licks the seam of my mouth, and I part my lips for him. Our tongues tangle in a tango the greatest dancers couldn’t match, and I watch my window of opportunity shrink to oblivion. There goes my chance to save myself.

This is temporary.

We are temporary.

But “temporary” feels too damn good to give up, so I throw myself headfirst into a story with no tomorrow.