Wrecking her innocence 27
Too full of everything we weren’t supposed to say.
“Anyway,” I said quietly, “while I have a few drinks, it’s better if you think about what you’re really feeling.”
I turned toward the door. My hand closed around the knob. I twisted it open.
But something made me pause.
I looked back at her. She was sitting on the edge of the bed now, arms wrapped around herself, eyes wide and hopeful. Like she thought I might change my mind. Like she thought I might stay.
My stomach twisted. I forced myself to speak. “I don’t want you in this room when I come back,” I said. My voice came out flat. “It’s even better if you leave now.”
Her face fell. The hope disappeared in an instant. She looked down at her hands.
I didn’t wait for her to reply.
I walked out and shut the door behind me. The click sounded louder than it should have.
I made it down the stairs and out to the truck in the driveway. My hands shook as I opened the door. Vclimbed in, sat behind the wheel, and stared straight ahead for a second. The house looked dark and quiet from out here. Like nothing had happened inside.
I reached into the glove compartment. I pulled out the pack of brown cigarettes I kept there for nights like this. I took one out. Found the lighter tucked beside it. Lit it with a quick flick. The flame flared bright for a second, then died down. I inhaled deeply. Heavy, thick smoke filled my lungs. I exhaled slowly through the open window. Brown clouds drifted out into the night air.
I took another drag. Held it. Let it burn.
My mind kept replaying her words.
I’m in love with you.
I’m in love with you.
I’m in love with you.
The smoke tasted bitter now. I leaned my head back against the seat and closed my eyes.
She didn’t know what she was saying. She couldn’t.
She was just young. Confused. Caught up in the heat of everything we’d done.
It wasn’t love.
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