All Broke Down (Rusk University #2)(19)
Author: Cora Carmack

There’s something even sexier about that, but at the same time, it wakes me up to a twisting sensation in my gut, something I recognize all too easily as guilt.

It’s not like I’m against sex or anything.

But like this? When it’s this . . . impersonal? I have no clue what I’m doing. It’s as if I woke up today and completely forgot who I was, who I’ve spent my whole life becoming. And I don’t know whether to be angry at myself for that or for feeling guilty about doing what I want. What feels right.

When is it okay for want to overpower common sense? And how do I know if this is just some phase, some rebellion? Or if it’s me finally waking up, letting go of expectations and responsibilities and rules?

How do I know what to trust—what I feel or what I think?

I’m scared that whatever I decide, I’ll end up regretting it.

I’m still straddling Silas when I ask, “You said you and Stella hooked up last year. That’s what this is . . . right?”

He kisses me on the shoulder and helps me stand. “My room is right across the hall. Let’s go over there.”

He pulls open the door, but I plant my feet.

“This is just a hookup.”

I don’t phrase it like a question, but from the wary look he shoots me, we both know it is.

“What do you want it to be?”

I frown. “I’m not sure.” I’m not really the one-night-stand kind of person, but I also can’t picture myself having a relationship with Silas. I like him and the way he makes me feel, but that’s not near enough to build a relationship on.

A holding cell meet-up and a few hot minutes in the bathroom is not exactly how I pictured my next romantic encounter.

“Can’t we just leave it at that? Figure it out later?”

“No. I can’t.”

He leaves the door to cross over to me. He scoops my thick hair up and pulls it over one shoulder. Then he trails a finger down my cheek, and I’m relieved to note it’s not the hand he recently had buried in my shorts.

“I think you’re great, Dylan.” He doesn’t use any stupid nicknames. I guess that’s another perk of the activity we’ve just done. “I like you. I like making you come. That’s all I know right now.”

I will not blush. I will not blush. I will not—

Damn that cocky smile.

I wish that were enough. I wish I could be fine with just worrying about right now.

“I don’t ask questions to be a pain, Silas. I ask questions because I’m the kind of person who needs answers. I just am.”

“What answer do you want? A relationship? Because that’s not really something I do.”

I don’t think that’s what I want. But I don’t like that it’s not even a consideration.

“How do you know? Do you have trust issues? Or you get bored easily? Or you’ve just never tried?”

He drops his hand away from my face.

“Dylan, I’m not sure what I want from you, but it isn’t to be my shrink.”

“I’m not trying to be your shrink. I’m just trying to get us on the same page.”

“We were on the same page when you were straddling me. Let’s go back to that.”

“Silas.” I know even as I say it that I sound like I’m reprimanding him. Like I’m already some angry girlfriend. And it’s ridiculous because I’m actually tempted. God, as frustrated and wary as I feel, I’m so tempted.

“Okay. Here are the answers I have for you, Dylan. Yes, I like you . . . enough to bail you out of jail when I knew next to nothing about you. Maybe it’s just a hookup. Maybe we’ll see each other again. I don’t know. I don’t make promises because I’m not good at keeping them. You’re either okay with that or you’re not. And if you’re not, that’s whatever . . . fine. But I can’t guarantee you anything. And if you’re thinking of me as some project you can fix or change . . . don’t. That’s what I know.”

“Thank you. That, um . . . that helps.” And makes me feel a little sick to my stomach all at the same time. It’s all well and good to act impulsively, to live in the moment, but I don’t exactly have any experience dealing with what comes after.

“Should I go find Matt and take you two home?”

“No.” I shake my head, my lips pursed tightly together. His eyebrows arch, and he curls a hand around the back of my neck. His mouth dips down close to mine, but I sidestep him and move toward the door. “I don’t need you to take me home. But I think it’s probably not a good idea for me to go into your bedroom. I’m in a weird place mentally right now, and I’m not sure I trust my decision making at the moment.”

In fact, I don’t trust myself at all. I haven’t since I went out with Henry thinking he might be about to propose and got a breakup instead. Because . . . I think, I can’t be sure, but I think when he ended it . . . I was relieved. And only minutes before I’d been prepared with the word yes on the tip of my tongue.

And that scares the holy hell out of me because I should know myself better than that . . . right? I should know who I am and what I think and how I feel . . . but I don’t.

I don’t know myself at all.

He swallows, and he must be gritting his teeth because his jaw is tight. He looks down at his feet and bobs his head in a nod. “I get it.”

He looks up and asks, “You sure you don’t need a ride home? It’s not a big deal.” But even though he’s looking at me, he’s not looking at me. His eyes are unfocused and just off to the side, and his expression is locked up tight.

And I feel so guilty, not just for what I did, but because this isn’t fair to him. He’s the collateral damage of my own indecision.

“Thanks. That’s really nice, but we can walk. It’s not far.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” I reply. I stand there stupidly for a few more seconds and then walk out the door.

I turn to say one last thing, and he’s right behind me. He’s looking at me now, and I can’t read his expression.

“Sorry.” I mean it to be an apology for all of it, but I’m scared he thinks it’s just about nearly bumping into him, so I continue, “I’m sorry for being weird about all this. And thank you. For everything, not for . . .” I gesture in the general direction of where he gave me an orgasm. “That. But thanks for that also. Oh God. I’m going to go. Sorry. Thanks.”