Not to mention the fact that my heart is aching to be acknowledged by Jessie, pushing against my ribs in his direction. It’s hard pretending like I don’t want him to touch me, that I don’t want to be with him. But I already made my choice and now I need to live with it, even if that choice blew up in my face less than forty-eight hours ago. The thought squeezes my throat and I suddenly feel sick to my stomach.
“Anything else?” It’s asked in a mocking tone while he frowns at me, the look not fitting the sweet Jessie I normally get. I guess I should get used to it. “I don’t understand you.”
Now I’m frowning, fighting phantom tears my own thoughts have conjured. “What do you mean?”
“You. I don’t understand you. You told me you loved me but that I’m not allowed to love you?” He says it like an angry question, but I know he’s not looking for any immediate answer because he continues his angry rant. “You chose that fucking Bastardo over me. I don’t understand why... Why do you keep letting yourself get hurt? Why even now you’re choosing him, knowing what he did? It’s fucking frustrating.”
I’m not still choosing him. I‘m just protecting Jessie from his rage. If anything, Donatello is even more dangerous now without me to keep him at bay. “Because I loved him first.” It’s a pathetic murmur, forced past my lips like the sad excuse it is. There’s a truth to it, but it wasn’t my only reasoning and hardly the most important one.
He scoffs at my answer, his face twisting like I spit in his face. “Has the love of your life even told you how he got into your dorms last spring? Has he told you how he even knew to come? You seriously think he would have come on his own?” He runs a hand through his hair, scrubbing it over his face roughly. “Me. I told him. He would never have come to your rescue if it weren’t for me. He had no idea because he was too busy wallowing and fucking his way through his own self-pity.”
My heart constricts at his words, those phantom tears coming to tease the corners of my eyes. I swallow past the lump in my throat, blinking as I watch him rant. He’s tearing at wounds that have barely scabbed over, picking at the weeping sores that haven’t even begun to close. His words might as well be a slap to the face, a blow hard enough to split my lips. The reminder of Donatello slicing through my flesh like a knife.
I can see the pain hidden behind Jessie’s anger, like it hurts him that he’s said something that he knows hurts me. I had no idea Jessie was involved at all, but I guess it makes sense. Jessie was the only one who ever really saw me. Sees me. “He said Remy sent him.” It’s a whispered confession, deflated and weak.
He scoffs, shaking his head to himself, “He was fucking lying. Like always.”
My gaze flicks up to his face, the deep blue of his eyes threatening to drown me in their depths. “Are you telling me this because you think I should know or because you want to hurt me for hurting you?”
His jaw clenches, the muscles flexing as he looks at me. I close my eyes when he takes the final small step separating us. I feel the warmth of his palms sliding up the outside of my arms, over my shoulders, and up to cup my cheeks. “Both.”
His heavy exhale brushes along my face and I reopen my eyes at his admission. My heart twinges with his answer, but I appreciate his honesty. “I already chose, Jessie... I can’t take it back now. The damage has already been done.”
My body relaxes into his touch without my consent, my cheek turning more fully into one of his palms. “Stop lying to yourself.” I frown as his grip tightens on my face, fingers slightly pinching. “I’m what you want. I’m what you need. You just haven’t realized it yet.”
The words are a painful, desperate plea; begging my heart to listen.
“Jessie…” It’s almost a whisper, his shallow words digging in my ribs.
“Don’t… don’t, Laney Girl.” He cuts me off, his thumbs brushing along my cheeks as he brings himself closer, his chest bumping along mine with each quiet breath. “Just let me have this… just let me have you for the night.”
“You lied to me, too.” It’s the truth, even if it burns my mouth to say it.
“I did.” He doesn’t even try to deny it, dropping his forehead to mine. His eyes close as if the thought of me turning him down is a physical pain and I pull in a tight breath. Each beat of my heart a sharp ache.
I don’t know how to respond so I push my face into his neck instead, closing my own eyes when he wraps his arms around me. I know he needs this; I know that I need this. My heart wants him with the same intensity that it hurts for Donatello. “I want to forget.” It’s said as I pull back, looking up at his face.
My soft aching words are reminiscent to last summer and they thrum between us, his eyes dropping to my mouth. There’s zero hesitation in his touch as his hand grips the back of my head, fingers sinking into my hair as he lifts me up to his lips. Goosebumps spread along my skin at the first soft brush of our lips, my pulse racing just below his fingertips as they glide over my jaw and down my throat to tug out the silver chain of his necklace from the collar of my shirt.
He pulls back to look at the tiny crescent moon in his fingers, his thumb smoothing over the matte surface as his baby blues look between my eyes.
