Page 29 of The Casualty of Us (Philosophies of the Heart Duet #1)

“I want you to explain, Hayes,” I hiss out, dragging in more air as it all starts to escape. “I want you to tell me why you wouldn’t even kiss me but were perfectly fine to—”

“Because I forgot for a second!” His hands shoot to his hair. “And I shouldn’t have even gone in there!”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!”

“Because I was alone and fucked in the head and then—”

“No,” I choke out, cutting him off and narrowing my eyes to take in the way he’s practically dripping with earnestness.

“You’re serious…” The quiet words escape before I can filter them, and then a hysterical laugh bubbles up to join them.

“This all happened because of your sad little nepo baby shit? Because you can’t stand two seconds without having someone there to give you attention?

” I shake my head sharply. “That’s fucking pathetic. ”

“You’re right!” He drops his hands from his hair, fingers splayed toward me with an expression like I finally get it.

“Yes! You’re right.” A rough gasp leaves him.

“Leave me alone for two seconds, and I’m fucking standing in the fire.

” His face twists back up in the pause that follows.

“You’re not telling me anything I don’t know, Ophelia.

I’ve been living in a burning house my whole life. ”

And it’s the way he says it with easy acceptance, so factually, like the sky is blue or water is wet…I can’t—

“Which is exactly why I didn’t want to—”

“I don’t care.”

Because I can’t.

Because my stomach is twisting and the sharpened ache is driving inward now, and my fucking head hurts from the effort of trying to pull myself back.

“Don’t fucking lie,” he growls, instantly invading my space again. “You do care.”

His eyes flit over my face as if he’s checking the validity of his own claim, and my own start to burn from the way I won’t even blink.

Both of us playing chicken with our hearts, quite literally, on the table between us.

“Which is also why…” He drops his hands to the table with a harsh exhale.

“I think for a second there in my drunken head I figured it didn’t matter if she burned with me, but you.

” A beat passes that has me almost wishing for blissful ignorance.

“I couldn’t do that to you.” He shakes his head.

“Because these last six months have been the best of my life because of you. Because it would have been more. You would’ve been more. I couldn’t handle that because I lo—”

“No!” I slap the table to stop it, something visceral shooting adrenaline through my veins and making me spit out, “Don’t you dare use a word that you can’t even begin to comprehend the meaning of.”

“And you do?” he scoffs, jaw twitching a couple times before his nostrils flare again.

“Tell me, O, what makes what you’re doing to me now so much better?

” I open my mouth, ready to rebut, but he rolls right over me, voice desperate like he knows his time is counting down.

“I fucked up.” He knocks his knuckles against the table.

“I let something stupid happen when I was piss drunk that lasted all of two seconds and I couldn’t even follow through with it.

” I shift at the words, and his eyes narrow on mine.

“Is that what you want to hear? The details? That I pushed her away pretty much as soon as she kissed me?”

I flinch. “Stop it.”

“That I walked back to my dorm and puked after because all I could think about was you? Is that what you want?” He leans in so close we’re practically breathing the same air.

“You don’t need to remind me that you deserve better because it was all I could think about the whole fucking break.

” I purse my lips, and his eyes flick down to them before slowly rising to mine again.

“But I’ll own every part of that night and anything after because I’m fucking sorry, and it was a stupid mistake. ”

And I know he means it, it’s all over him, undeniable at this point…

right there in his face, eyes, voice, and spirit.

Little apologies probably written into the code of his DNA by now, if I had to guess.

But he still can’t change it, he can’t change anything, and neither can I, because no matter how many A’s, C’s, G’s, and T’s we pile on—

“But you.” His soft words pull me back enough to catch how the hazel is moving all over my face now. “All you’re doing now is purposefully hurting us both, but guess what?” He pauses, gaze locking with mine and I hold my breath. “I don’t care. I’m still here.”

I already ran out to grab some ice cream. No take-backs.

“Ollie!”

Messy, messy, messy.

“You want to know the truth?” I gasp, ignoring the ache that’s made it all the way up to my throat, and breathe back through it. “Less, Hayes.”

His brows shoot down sharply, the familiarity of it not hitting him yet, and I try to blink away the liquid fighting to fill my eyes.

“You turned out to be less than I expected.” I fight to get it out, watching the hit land in real time as he flinches.

“Which is really just about the worst part of it all, because you may not know exactly who I am—” A gasp cuts me off before I can stop it, pinching my face up and leaving me barely managing the rest. “But you knew enough to not do this, didn’t you? ”

And then I break down and beg him…beg him with my eyes to change it.

To tell me I’m wrong. To argue some point I’ve somehow overlooked.

To go back, change it. Somehow, some way.

To not make whatever dumb choices he did that night.

So that I don’t have to ever deny this forgiveness to begin with.

I beg him somewhere between us where the blue is reaching for hazel, even if the panic I can see slowly starting to fill his face is my answer.

Because his silence…well, that’s it, isn’t it?

The one undeniable fact we can’t get around—and I’ve called him on it.

He opens his mouth, a puff of air escaping before he closes it, and I shake my head to cover up the way my bottom lip is starting to tremble.

Clenching my fingers around my backpack and grabbing my chem book off the table before spinning to get the fuck away from it.

Not even bothering to zip the bag back up.

Almost running from him and my inability to forgive both of us.

Because…I didn’t see it. Let myself fall.

I didn’t see it again.

Realized too late—

“Ophelia! Come back here!”

His shout fills the air as I make it to the top of the two-story staircase that will shoot me out into the lobby, and the sound of it just sends me hurrying down those first few steps.

“Ophelia!” he calls again.

“Shove it up your ass!”

“Ophelia!”

“Leave me the fuck alone!”

I start to race down the steps as fast as safely possible, considering my past history with clumsy occurrences.

Debating internally whether not having to speak to another person today is actually worth a trip to the emergency room at this point.

The chances of me escaping right now are pretty slim without it, considering that he carries the athletic label and I—

“Ophelia!”

Oh, fuck.

I make it to the first landing, whipping around the corner to see the lobby waiting at the bottom of the next set of stairs right when a hand closes around my elbow. “Can you just stop it with the shit for like—”

“My shit?!” I bat his hand away with the book. “My shit?! Really?!”

“Yeah! Because you’ve gone full-on Machiavelli!”

“God,” I scoff, narrowing my eyes at him. “You probably didn’t even read the whole book—”

“I’m just trying to tell you—”

“Just looked up the CliffsNotes!”

“Fuck!”

I turn back and dart down the stairs before he can grab me again, but his curse has everyone in the lobby turning our way.

All eyes come to watch our display with rapt attention and leave me trying to maintain my ignore everyone policy while still escaping.

Knowing that if I can just leave everyone with as little information as possible, this story can be crafted and salvaged later. If he’ll just—

“Can you just—”

His fingers brush the back of my elbow, and I react out of instinct, whipping around and lifting the book at him in warning. Catching how his eyes blow wide before dropping to mine with something desperate in them that has my stomach plummeting.

Knowing I’m going to hate it and trying to make it stop even as he shouts, “I love you!”

“Fuck you!”

Our voices overlap each other, echoing around the library lobby to reverberate in my ears with the ringing there.

Both of us standing there staring at each other in the wake of the storm and witnessing the damage caused firsthand.

In the pain-laced twist of his face and how the hazel is cracked open now, torment there reaching out for the couple of tears that are rolling down my pinched face.

No will left in me to fight it or keep them at bay anymore because it’s all out there.

No take-backs.

“Hayes.”

The girly voice has me turning my head to see a blonde suddenly standing beside us, a dramatically uncomfortable look on her face as she shuffles her feet.

“Hayes.”

“Not fucking now, Josey.”

I look back at him with a vicious laugh, quickly using the back of my hand to dash the tears away. “No, please—”

“Ophelia—”

“Hayes—”

“Josey!” I snort her name, rounding us out and catching the way his jaw starts twitching again.

“O—”

I turn away before he can even get my name out this time, taking a single step past the blonde in question before she reaches out to set a hand on my arm. “I’m really sorry, Ophelia,”

“Take your hand off of me.”

“It just happened, ya know?”

I gasp. “I said, let go—”

“I know you’re new, but sometimes these things—”

“I—”

“Just happen—”

“Hey, Hayes.”

“Ollie!”

I whirl around with the book clutched firmly between my fingers, bringing it up and slamming it against her face.

The loud crunch that comes right before the screaming starts up perfectly pairs with the ringing in my ears, harmonizing in the lobby that everyone is standing still in as the blood begins to dribble from her nose and something loosens inside of me.

Unraveling in blissful relief at the regaining of control.

I blink up at Hayes, finding him standing there with shock playing out across his face. “You know what your real mistake was?”

His nostrils flare, eyes tracking me carefully even with the screams still filling the air. Which is good. Because he needs to pay attention.

“Your mistake was thinking I’m a girl who only wants to be loved.” I wave the book at where Josey’s laid out on the ground, acting like I murdered her or something. “Because that girl…yeah, she probably would just go ahead and forgive you.”

But I’m not her, and we both know it.

Me, always, and him, too late.

Things probably would be easier for me if I could be her.

“Unfortunately for both of us.” I shrug, trying to stop the way that knot in my chest is twisting viciously. “I never will be.”

“What is going on here?!”

The librarian’s piercing screech rips through the lobby, ending the harmony in my head and making everything seem to move at once again.

So I drop the book with a gasp and turn away from him. “Now I’m done.”