Unsteady

by Peyton Corinne

My hand grips her chin hard, jealousy boiling in my gut at the suggestion. “Finish that sentence, I dare you. I guarantee it’ll be you on your knees this time, not me.”

“Just calling to breathe in my ear?” “Working on my Darth Vader impression.” I flirt with an ease that reminds me of before. “How am I doing?”

“You found a song?” She smiles again and it feeds my soul. “It reminds me of you. I added it to the end of the playlist last night.” “I’ll listen to it on the way to my class.”

But I know her schedule like I know my own, because I want to know it. I want to see her every second I can,

I gesture to her, making her face turn ashen as I call louder, “And tell your little friend up there to watch her fucking back. I don’t need unbruised knuckles to skate.”

“Someone’s gotta stop him.” “Who?” “Freddy.” Bennett curses and takes off back toward the party with Ro, leaving me with Rhys.

He deserves so much more. He’s temporarily broken—there’s no fixing me.

“But along with her, you are the most important thing in my life. I would bleed myself dry if it meant I could take your pain for you. Now, tell me.”

“If you’d picked up a basketball all those years ago, I’d be courtside for the rest of my life with one of those big foam fingers. If you take up a paintbrush, I’ll buy every piece that we have wall space for. If you use that big brain of yours for engineering or law, I’ll do whatever I can to show I support you until my last breath.”

Luc sighs, and nods toward me like we’re friends. Which is fine, unless he’s sleeping with Sadie, and then I think I’d like to knock him on his ass.

“Just tell me how I can help you, Gray. Fuck—I hate seeing you look like you’re about to panic.”

Why am I so upset? Because Sadie has been taking care of them alone and you made her take care of you too. Selfish.

But I’m patient. I’ll be patient with him just like I will be with Sadie.

And she’s there. Beautiful—like always—in a way that catches in my throat.

I don’t give a shit what’s happening in this house, she’s the first priority I have.

“You have no right to judge me.” I’ll take all the anger she needs to release; I’ll be her punching bag if I need to. If it helps. I don’t care, as long as it wipes that despairing, empty look from her eyes.

The match is lit; fury, dark and coiled, releases through my veins as the implication of her words takes root. For years. It echoes in my head like a pounding war drum.

“I—” She lets out another shuddering breath, and I wonder if she’s ever felt as helpless with my demons as I do facing hers now, worried that any moment is going to devolve into panic.

“I don’t know how to say it,” she grumbles with a little half-whine, half-sob. It brings a strange smile to my face, and she mimics it slightly. “Just try.”

🥹

“Gray?” “Yes?” “I want to kiss you.” If she rejects me again, I think I can take it. In fact, I worry more that, if she lets me, the dark thing that lives in me will just want to take and take and take from her. I worry I will be too much, and yet still not enough.

“Your bed is so comfortable,” she moans as I settle my weight between her thighs. “Sleep here forever, then,”

I know I can love her. I just don’t know if she’ll let me. But for now, this—her like this for me, soft for me—that’s enough.

I’ll take any bit of her she’ll give to me—a dog begging for scraps, until she lets me in. I’m patient. I can wait.

“Hey, hotshot.” “Hey, Gray,”

I’ll drown in his dimples if they grow any deeper.

If I wasn’t already blushing, I’m full-on cherry red now.

“It’s… ah, latte foam art. It’s supposed to be a flower.” He says it sheepishly, quiet. “I love it.”