Page 42

FORTY-TWO

how could u love somebody like me? - Artemas

Ronan is running from me. He’s running, and I somehow screwed it up. His eyes look so hurt, and then he delivers the, “I’m not Greyson, and I never will be.”

My heart stutters, and a flood of emotions hits me. First, confusion, then sadness, then anger. Because, at some point, he stopped becoming Greyson to me. Now, he’s Ronan. And I like Ronan. And I’m not sure when that happened.

“Hey.” I grab Ronan’s hips, yanking him towards me. “Stay.”

But the panic in his eyes only increases. “I’m not–”

I throw myself over him, dropping my weight on him so he can’t leave. “Wait, Ronan, please.”

“Logan.” He sounds afraid, and Christ, I hate that. I hate that I did that to him. “I know you’re not Greyson.”

Greyson liked Lay’s chips on his sandwiches. Ronan prefers Veggie Straws. Greyson sang like an angel, and Ronan could make even a baby wince. Greyson was kind to the world, and Ronan is vicious to the villains. It’s refreshing and invigorating, and fuck, if I’m not a little obsessed with it. But he’s also hurt and afraid. And I have a feeling that under all of that pain, Ronan is just as kind. And I want to pin him down and find that kindness, whether he wants me to or not.

I can feel Ronan’s heart pounding under his shirt. I want to trap it. Trap him down so it never stops beating. So he never leaves me.

I almost failed to keep him safe when I smelled that sunscreen and stopped attacking Dakota. I hate myself for it. Even now, the memory of the smell is tripping me up.

I suck in a breath. “I…I…fuck.”

Ronan stills.

I can’t look at him. I just tuck my head into his shoulder. “I’ve never done this before. I don’t know what I’m doing. I know you’re not Greyson.”

Ronan is frozen. “Never…what do you mean? Never done this before?”

Woo’d a man. Well, not successfully, anyway. And I’ve definitely never taken one to my bed. I reserve all my hookups for blow jobs or hand jobs. And now I see why. My trauma is fucking it all up.

Dirty. Disgusting thing . The thoughts bounce around in my head. Greyson’s dead because of this. He wouldn’t be dead if you didn’t shove yourself on him.

I shake my head and shove myself away from Ronan.

No. No, he’s dead because the system failed him. Because every part of him screamed that he needed help, but no one listened. Not even me.

No, no, no, no .

Suddenly, Ronan’s hand is on my back. He’s patting, then rubbing, making awkward touches that bring me back to reality.

I pull away from him, sitting up. Ronan blinks slowly. “You okay?”

I run my hands down my face, my skin hot. I tried to take Ronan to bed and made him think I was only after him because of my ex.

Maybe I’m not ready for this.

“Hey.” Ronan reaches out, grabbing my hand. After he says it, a little crease forms between his eyes. “Maybe this isn’t a good idea.”

“No.” I say the word quickly. Because I’m allowed to question this experience, but he isn’t. My heart is racing, and I say the first thing I can think of, “I don’t have any condoms.”

Ronan blinks at me, then slowly asks, “What?”

“I don’t have condoms.” I used up my last ones a while ago, and I just wasn’t interested in anyone. And I never dreamed I’d have someone…here. In my bed. Someone perfect like Ronan, who’s all hard edges and raw hatred. Someone covering up a deep level of pain that I think I, unfortunately, understand.

“I thought…” He looks confused.

“What?” I try not to look at his dick, which is still hard and, despite my racing thoughts, is making me hard.

“I just thought,” he waves his hand at me, “I don’t know. I’ve never done this before.”

“Me either.” The words come out silent. Soft. I don’t look at Ronan. I don’t know that I can .

“But you said–”

“Greyson was my first crush.” And it turned out horribly. For the millionth time, I wish I never said anything. I wish I kept us as just friends.

I stare down at Ronan’s thighs. His perfect, strong thighs.

You don’t deserve it. You’re disgusting .

I swallow harshly, and then Ronan’s hand is on mine. It’s a gentle touch. Soft, and I’m not sure why. I glance up at him, startled. His gaze is unfiltered and…vulnerable. He looks so pretty like this, and suddenly, I want to kiss him again.

“I want to be your first.”

My heart stutters, and I stare at Ronan. He…what?

“Make me your first.”

I look down at him, mind stalled. He’s not…disgusted by me? “No, Ronan.” I should tell him what I did. I should tell him why Greyson died. “We can’t–”

“Shut up and kiss me.” And then Ronan is drawing my lips to his, and we’re kissing. His kisses are like no other, shooting life into my soul. He’s like a rushing wind, powerful and loud, snuffing out the voices like wind on candles. Rushing into every part of me.

And I’m kissing him back.

Not Greyson.

Ronan.