Wasted Words by Staci Hart

Maybe tonight was just an illusion, something I’d made up, reading too much into his actions, his words. Maybe he wasn’t that into me at all, and I’d imagined the whole thing, just like I had with Will. Because even now, I didn’t know if Will ever really felt anything, or if it was just the misunderstanding of a girl too young to know better.

When I found Tyler, I was close to coming unhinged, my heart pounding, thoughts galloping away like wild horses. He knew immediately that something was wrong and pulled me aside.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, cupping my cheek, searching my face.

I tried to smile and shook my head. “Nothing,” I said, leaning into his palm, wondering what in the world to do.

BEGGING FOR THREAD

Tyler

COLD DREAD RAN THROUGH ME the minute I saw her walking back to me. But she smiled at me, told me she was fine, and even though I knew it was a lie, I felt powerless. I couldn’t force her to talk to me, to be honest with me, to trust me. Didn’t matter how much I wanted her to come around. It wasn’t up to me.

Something had happened, but she wouldn’t tell me what. It was plain to see … she’d gone from open, happy, mine, to disappearing into her thoughts, her mood shifting inward for the rest of the night. Sure, she still participated, still smiled, but it didn’t touch her eyes. She talked, laughed, but none of it came from her heart.

The cab ride home was long and quiet, putting aside what I wanted to give her the space she wanted. Because what I wanted was to machine-gun her with questions, to make her talk to me so I could fix it. Even the physical space between us in the taxi as she leaned on her door, looking out the window, was vast.

It was only a few feet, but she was miles away.

My anxiety ratcheted with every second, every word left unspoken hanging between us. You know, you can feel a breakup before it happens, as if the other person’s thoughts project into every molecule, and when you breathe them in, you can read their mind.

She took my hand when I offered it to help her out of the cab, and she didn’t let it go, not as we walked up the stairs to our apartment in silence, not until we were inside when she turned to me, eyes brimming with pain and tears.

I reached for her, but she stepped back, shaking her head.

My jaw clenched. “Tell me what happened, Cam.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“That’s bullshit. It matters to me.”

“Tyler …” She looked so uncertain, her thoughts screaming through the silence.

“I don’t know where the girl who I danced with earlier has gone. You won’t talk to me. You won’t trust me with whatever’s going on. I’ve been patient, I’ve tried to give you space and let you be, but you’ve had one foot out the door the whole time. One minute you’re up, the next you’re down. I want to be with you, and I can shoulder a lot, but you’ve got to go all in. I need to know you’re in this with me.”

Her chin quivered, and she pursed her lips to stop it. “You’re right. This isn’t fair to you. I’ve second guessed everything, doubted everything, including myself. The anxiety, the worry … it’s driving me crazy. And so I’m driving you crazy.”

“I want you to drive me crazy. Can’t you see that?”

She shook her head again. “Tyler, no you don’t. This is supposed to be easy. When you fall for someone, shouldn’t it be easy? I don’t feel like we’re the same. We’re not equals.”

My hands shook, my fists tight by my side, trying to hang on to her. “What do you want from me? I’ve done everything, everything to prove it to you, but here we are again.”

“You’ve done everything right, but … you don’t understand. How could you? We’re too different. And the last time I felt this way, I ended up hurt. So hurt.” Her voice broke.

I moved for her, stepping into her, and she let out a breath as I drew one, my brow low, eyes hard. She was backed against the couch, and I held her small face, tilting it up to mine. “Am I not enough for you, Cam?”

Tears filled her eyes. “You’re too much.” The words were but a whisper.

“So you’re just going to walk away?”

“I don’t know what else to do.”

I gently squeezed her jaw cupped in my palms. “You have to choose. That’s it. You don’t walk away. You let me in. You just have to choose.”

She took a shuddering breath, her brown eyes brimming, but I saw a flicker of hope. “What if I can’t?”

I shook my head, searching her face. “You can. You can do anything. You just have to believe in me. In us. That’s all.”

“I want to, but—”

“Then that’s all that matters. I need you to see that. Nothing else matters except I want you, and you want me. Tell me you want me.”

Her breath was shallow. “I want you,” she said quietly. “But—”

“No more buts. There’s nothing left to say.” I leaned down, my lips on a track for hers. “Don’t fight me, Cam. Don’t run away.”

Her lids fluttered closed, forcing tears down her cheeks, and I felt her let go, felt her fall into me. I just didn’t know for how long.

So I did the only thing I could to show her how I felt — I kissed her.

I kissed her with all of me, heart and soul, told her with every motion, every touch, every breath that I wanted her. That she was perfect. That I was hers.

She leaned into me, slipped her hands up my chest, under my jacket, and I pulled her close, as close as I could.