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Sometimes when I’m alone, I wonder if my obsession with him is self-sabotage or some shit. Like, as long as I’m in love with Vitali, I’m totally immune to harm because nothing can come of it. But that explanation falls apart as soon as I’m in his presence—because nothing hurts like being around him. And yet, it’s the only place I want to be.
Two fucking years I’ve managed to control myself. Two fucking years of hiding my attraction to him, my obsession with him, my absolute fucking need to be around him. It’s been two years of torment, yes, undeniably, but it’s a torment that I do not want to lose.
Those cruel, sensual lips twist. “Oh, Quinn. I don’t think this is going to go quite like you think.”
“Red.” “It doesn’t work like that.” “Red.” “Quinn. You already are safe.”
“But you’re wrong,” he tells me. “You’re so goddamn fucking wrong because I do love you and I really always have and I don’t know why it took me so long to understand it and I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I was stupidly slow. I’m sorry that I’ve been so fucking impatient with you. I’m sorry that I hurt you and I am so fucking sorry that you got this far ahead of me tonight. And don’t you ever do any shit like this again because you would fucking kill me.”
“I couldn’t do better in a million fucking years. You are everything I could ever, ever want. I fucking love you.”
“She saved my life,” he tells me. “Just like you did.” “How so?” “She made a place for me.”
“We’re allowed to love you too, you know.”