Page 52 of The Best Worst Mistake (Off-Limits #2)
“Right.” I nod, but I don’t know how else to answer.
Of course I’m going to miss her. She knows that.
But she doesn’t have to miss me. We’ve been through this conversation before.
More than once. The reminder that Abby has no interest in a real, meaningful relationship after we graduate feels similar to the whack in the gut that I just gave Silas.
We walk in silence for a few moments, until I decide to just fuck it and say what I want to say. We’re heading to opposite sides of the country next week, so why not try?
“What do you think of staying over?” I ask, bracing myself.
“What do I think of staying over?” She looks at me like I’m being ridiculous. “Wasn’t that the plan? Or did I miss something?”
“I mean all night ,” I add quietly, casting an arm over her shoulders.
This, right here, is where the rejection takes place.
She snaps her head up and I feel her spine stiffen before softening, like she has to let the suggestion melt into her like a warm pool of milk before outright rejecting me in a less-heated tone.
But she doesn’t answer right away.
“We graduate next week, Abs,” I remind her, gently. “We might literally never see each other after leaving here, if that’s what you want. What’s the harm in allowing yourself to—”
“You know I’m not the sleepover type,” she interrupts, but something in her voice sounds more reluctant than usual.
“No, really? That’s news to me.” I feign surprise.
She snorts but ribs me with her elbow, then leans in closer, resting her head against my shoulder. I tighten my grip around her, wishing with everything in me that I could convince her to come to L.A. Maybe if she visited, just once, she’d see what a great place it is and decide to stay.
We both ignore the question I just asked as we walk the rest of the way home, but eventually begin climbing the set of stairs that lead up to my apartment.
When we reach the door, I turn to face her instead of going inside. “What if I was serious about you coming to L.A.?” I ask.
“Dax, please don’t.” She breaks away from my gaze and tries turning the doorknob, but it’s locked.
“Don’t what?”
“Make a thing of this.” She sighs, then twists the knob again like I should’ve unlocked it already.
This is going to sound ridiculous, but I have to ask. I’ve wanted to know the answer for as long as I’ve known her. I steal a breath and bring a fingertip to her jaw, tilting her face up so I can look right into her eyes when I ask: “Abby, who the mother fucking flying fuck hurt you?”
The words just spill out. It sounds absurd, because it is absurd.
We’ve been platonically hooking up now for almost three years and she’s never once stayed long enough to fall asleep next to me.
I know I should be happy with what I have when it comes to this infuriating woman that I’m head-over-heels addicted to, but it’s also the last week we’re going to be in the same town.
Possibly ever. I can see Abby fading from my life the second we’re not sharing a campus anymore.
What else do I have to lose?
Her eyes shift to mine and I can see my answer clearly within them.
Everything . I have everything left to lose.
“Don’t.” She sets her jaw.
“Don’t what?”
She swallows and shifts to her other foot. “Don’t ruin it, Dax,” she warns, but then her voice softens. “Wanting me means wanting this part of me, too. The part that is just so bad at this.”
“Which part? The part of you that I’m not allowed to have?
” I ask, gently taking hold of her wrists.
She drags them through my grasp until it’s her hands I’m holding onto instead.
Her fingers lace their way through mine and she gazes up at me, answering my question with the look in her eyes instead of her words.
It’s all there. Whatever this part of her is that’s left me wanting more will continue to leave me wanting.
She rubs the back of my hands with her thumbs, tracing over each of my knuckles with the soft pad of her thumb while my heart hammers in my chest. It’s so loud that I wonder if she can hear it.
“You know I’m no good at this, and I wish that I was. I can’t imagine not seeing you after next week, but I jus tー ”
She stops, then shakes her head like the words won’t come.
For the last three years, I’ve seen Abby race through law school with top marks, destroy opposing colleagues in mock trials, and bring professors to their knees arguing hot topics in enormous lecture halls.
Abby is never at a loss for words. Never .
Except for at a time like this when I push against this one and only part of her I’m not allowed to have — the part that won’t fully allow me in.
“What is it then?” I ask. “Or maybe you want more for yourself — just not with me?”
“No,” she shoots back. “That’s not it at all. It has nothing to do with you. You’re—” She stops, and pauses to look straight through me. Then she smiles, while a surprising amount of sadness fills her eyes. “You’re perfect, Dax. I’ve loved what we had.”
What we had . I only hear the last three words.
“Come on,” she says, gently tugging one of my hands toward the door. “Unlock this place. Let’s go in.”
I drop her hand in favor of my key. Once the door’s unlocked, I turn the knob but don’t push it open quite yet.
“I’m not going to be ready to let you go by next week, Abs,” I tell her, brushing her thick hair back from her forehead.
“No one said you have to be ready.” Her voice is so quiet that I question if I heard her correctly. “But if I haven’t been able to make this work in person, what makes you think we’d be able to carry it on across a whole country?”
“Because we haven’t given us a real chance yet. Stay. Just once. We can talk about it in the morning. See how you feel after hearing me snore all night. That might be the missing ingredient that wins you over.”
She laughs and grabs my bicep when I go to push the door open. I turn to make another joke but stop when the light I left on inside the apartment earlier floods her eyes.
She tilts her chin up to mine, blinking in the light. The gold of her irises, the mess of thick, dark hair, and her lips. Those lips. I take a mental snapshot, knowing this might be the last time she’s ever standing out here on my porch.
“There’s a slight chance I might be too tired to walk back after,” she says slowly. A hesitant grin sneaks onto her lips. “I had no idea you were a snorer. You should have mentioned that sooner, Dax. That really changes things.”
She grins. I know she’s kidding, but the idea that she might actually give this a shot is . . . Well, it’s everything.
I lean down to kiss her. Her eyes are already closed, lips perfectly positioned to meet mine, but I stop before we get there.
“Say it again,” I whisper.
“I didn’t say I would definitely stay,” she says, rushing to correct me. “I said might .”
“Shh,” I say, snuffing out the rest. I hold a finger up to her lips, silencing them before she can explain it away. “Just let me live in the moment of maybe .”
Her lips skim my finger when she smiles.
“Now, say it again,” I repeat, lowering my hand, leaving nothing left between us but our breath.
“I might be too tired to walk back,” she repeats seductively, grinning into the half-inch space between us.
“Good enough.”
I grab her around the waist and she shrieks, leaning back with a giggle. Finally, I close the gap between us, kissing her before any other words can put a disclaimer at the end of that sentence.
My arms wrap tighter as our kiss deepens, drawing her in, making sure that she can’t speak or maybe even form full thoughts after admitting that she just might stay all night until dawn.
I lift her effortlessly to straddle my hips and step through the doorway.
All while swearing to myself that I will render her silent without words all night if I have to — at the very least, until the sun rises again tomorrow.
And then, God willing, I’ll bring her coffee in bed, and we’ll have the conversation I’ve already prepared in my head. Hoping, maybe moronically, and against all odds, that Abby might actually be willing to make this work.
But by the time morning comes, and the sun has nearly risen, she’s left again. This time for good.
Before the first sip of the coffee I’ve brought her can even be had.