convinced it was coming that I didn’t question it. I just assumed. I don’t want to be that guy. I don’t want to be the dick, but she kept putting off being with me, and I get that it’s her religion or whatever, but it started to eat at me. You know, like maybe it’s not sex that’s the problem but me.”
I snap my head up. “What did you say?”
“I don’t want to be like that,” he says, wincing. “But we’ve been together for a year, Arrow, and a guy starts to wonder.”
“She hasn’t . . . You two haven’t . . .” Yep, now I’m stuttering.
“Don’t look at me like that. I love her, okay? I’m trying to be patient.” He throws his head back and groans. “I was trying. I screwed up everything.”
How long can a heart race without oxygen? Because blood whooshes through my ears but I can’t breathe. I can’t freaking breathe. She was still a virgin? I assumed in all the time since we talked about it she and Brogan would have . . . But they didn’t.
Fuck. And she didn’t think that was important to tell me? She never had sex with Brogan, but then one night with me and—
“Arrow?” Brogan calls, and I can tell by his tone that he’s waiting for me to answer a question.
“I’m sorry. What?”
“You don’t deny it, do you? You have feelings for her. Tell me I wasn’t completely insane.” The accusation is gone from his tone. Brogan is back. My empathetic buddy who gets that life just isn’t fair sometimes, who gets it better than anybody, because life is never fucking fair to him.
Mia was a virgin. It doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter.
Fuck. It matters so much. That means something, doesn’t it? But as much as I want to believe it means I’m more to her than she says, I’m afraid it only reinforces what she hinted at the night of her birthday. She thinks what we have is like what her mom and dad had—the hot, fast-burning passion. The impulsive mistake.
Brogan stares at me. Waiting for me to answer his question. No point in denying it. Chris knew; Brogan knew. Clearly it’s all over my face every time I look at her.
I swallow hard. “Do you know what we talked about on her birthday? After I stopped by to give her my present?”
Brogan grimaces. I could always read him like a book, and right now he’s trying to decide if he really wants to know or if maybe the truth might hurt even worse than his suspicions.
“We talked about you,” I say, putting him out of his misery. “I asked her if you made her happy.” When he opens his mouth to say something, I hold up a hand. “I know. That’s not the kind of thing you ask your best friend’s girl, but I did. Maybe I wanted her to tell me she was lonely with you or that you weren’t good to her. I don’t know what I expected, but it’s not what I got.”
He rubs the seam at the end of the chair arm. “What did she say?”
“She compared you to the sun. You keep her safe and warm.” I don’t want to lie to him at all, so I’m glad I don’t have to lie to him about this. I’m glad I don’t have to pretend. “It doesn’t matter how I feel about her, Brogan. You’re the one she wants.” I’m the fire. The danger. I’m the mistake.
“I screwed up.” He turns to me, looking me in the eye for the first time all day, and says, “I didn’t believe I was even capable of hurting her. But you should have seen her face this morning. Christ, I didn’t even know she cared that much, but when I pulled up at her dad’s, she looked like she’d been cut in two.” He swallows. “I knew she loved me, but I didn’t believe she was in love with me. Maybe if I’d believed it, maybe if I had any fucking self-esteem, I wouldn’t have assumed the worst from those texts, and I wouldn’t have been such an idiot last night.”
I stand up. I don’t have it in me to sit here and listen to him bemoan his mistakes. I’m all out of sympathy. When I get to my bedroom door, I stop. I keep my gaze trained on the doorknob as I ask, “Have you heard her sing?”
“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” He sighs