Before & After - Nazarea Andrews Page 0,25

with. But you won't be honest with me for five fucking minutes."

She's pale and almost shaking in her side of the booth, her fingers white-knuckled as they clench around her glass of unsweet tea. "I'm honest," she whispers. "I’ve never lied to you."

I shrug. "There's a helluva difference between lying and not telling the truth. What is it about me that you want but can't stand to get close to? Because that shit won't work for me."

“I'm not the one who took another dude home. You took my roommate home and fucked her and you’re making it seem like I'm the one who fucked up."

"You don't trust me. So arguing with you about what happened isn't worth it."

I lean across the table and grab half her sandwich. She's staring at me and her eyes are furious. I sigh. "I didn't touch her. You can ask her and Scott if you don't believe me. Or you can tell me to fuck off and we can both cut our losses. Kinda wonder if that's not a good option."

"How can you say that?" she asks, hurt crossing her face, scrunching her brow and shadowing her blue eyes.

I shrug. "I know why this shouldn't work. I knew before I ever walked up to you in Barrie’s. But I don't give a fuck. I'm falling for you. And I want to think you’re falling for me. But you can't even tell me why you're in my bar or what the hell it is you do on that fucking computer. I find out after three weeks that the girl I fucked two months ago is your roommate. I can't do this. I can't fall for you if you're going to pull away from me and keep secrets. Because I won't be able to put up with them forever and eventually, I'll want to know some shit you aren't willing to share. And by then, I'll be in too deep." I look at her, and shrug. Smile a tiny little smile. "If this thing doesn't work, I'd rather it fall apart now."

I slip out of the booth. She's still staring at me, her eyes wide and terrified. Why the hell does she look so scared? I shove that thought aside. It doesn't matter. Even if I asked, she wouldn't tell me. She doesn't tell me anything.

“You almost cheated on me. You tried to cheat on me. How the actual fuck did this become about me?” She demands.

“Because the only reason I went to her is because of the secrets. I fucked up, even thinking about it. But this isn’t all on me.”

I lean forward, "This has to be more than good sex and superficial conversation, Peyton. As fucking awesome as that is, I can't just do that." I wait for her to say something—any fucking thing—to stop me. But she doesn't.

She sits there in silence and watches me as I walk out of the deli.

Chapter 12: After

Love--to me--

Is challenges and partners

And stories that make my heart skip

It's laughter and plans,

And dreaming.

(Rike’s poems to Peyton)

I’m worried about what I’m wearing.

Which, all things considered, is the stupidest thing in the world to worry about. But it’s ten and Rike will be here soon, and I want to look cute.

I’m in a wheelchair, and can’t remember who the hell I am and I’m rocking a cast on my leg and arm, and I’m more concerned about what an idiot boy who wants in my pants will think than where I fucking come from.

“It’s official, Collins. You’re a fucking idiot,” I mutter, brushing a lock out of my eyes.

I’ve put on makeup and my hair, though a bit scraggly, looks cute in its choppy piece around my face. For the first time in weeks, I feel vaguely human instead of like some desert island inhabitant.

It probably won’t last long. I grab my notebook and the phone, and shove them into my purse, and a knock on the door has my heart jumping into my throat. I blink and it comes again. This time it’s the kick I need to push myself forward and swing the door open for Rike.

He’s got two cups of coffee, and his grin is lazy as it tracks over me. “Why did the chicken cross the basketball court?”

I tilt my head, a smile rising, “Why?”

“He heard the ref calling fowl.”

I laugh, a surprised burst of noise, and he grins at me. “Good morning, sweetheart,” he murmurs, and the nerves in my belly dip.

“You ready?” I ask, and