CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I STOMPED BACKup to Damien’s room, grabbing a new glass of water from the kitchen on the way up and willing the tears in my eyes to go away. How could I have been so stupid? He called me a “quick fuck” the first time he got angry at me, then used me for the same exact reason this time. When would I learn to stop being hopeful that people were good, that they didn’t want to hurt me? My track record of the last couple of months, not to mention my whole life before, showed that people were selfish and couldn’t care less if they hurt someone else as long as it benefited them. My parents, creepy men at bars, Leah, Alex. All of them had pretended to care, yet none of them had.
I watched the steady rise and fall of Damien’s chest as I laid back down in his bed. Of all the people I had become close to recently, he was the only one who seemed to be truly genuine. He had shown me kindness and compassion from the beginning. He had kicked Luke’s ass after he tried to drug me even though he had no clue who I was, he had taken care of me when I was hungover, and he had come to get me when I disappeared from his life.
And I was beginning to feel too much for him. He and Alex had been through so much together, and I had come between them. If I were to decide that I wanted to be with Damien, it would cause an unfixable rift. Alex hated me now, and Damien was practically a brother to him. I couldn’t let myself threaten a lifelong friendship by falling in love with one of them. Waiting until May would only make it hurt more.
I needed to let Damien go, for his own good and for mine, and I needed to do it now.
IT WAS 6a.m. when Damien began to stir, and I wrapped myself around his warm, strong body, wanting to feel him like this one last time. He pulled me in tightly and yawned, then placed a light kiss on my forehead before letting his head fall back on the pillow.
“Morning,” he mumbled.
“Good morning.” I spoke softly, knowing that this would be our last morning together but not wanting to break the spell of normalcy. Not yet, anyway.
We lay there for a long while not speaking as he held me to his chest. I wanted more than anything to be able to stop time at this very moment. No worrying about heartbreak or moving or money. Just us holding each other in the warm safety of his bed.
But all good things must come to an end.
“Do you think you could take me home early today?” I asked. “I have a lot of work to get done this week and want to get a headstart.”
Damien furrowed his brow. “Sure, I guess. You know you can just bring your laptop here to do work, right?”
“Yeah, but I like to keep work and fun separate. And weekends with you are meant for fun.” I jabbed my elbow at him and feigned a smile, standing to change my clothes.
“Do you have to leave right now?” He pouted. God, he was adorable. I would miss it. More than I was willing to let myself admit right now.
“Probably better for me to go as soon as possible, unfortunately.”
“Ugh, fine.” Damien rolled out of bed, the muscles in his chest and arms flexing as he pulled on a t-shirt. “But you owe me next weekend,” he teased.
I let out a small fake laugh, but the ache in my chest was growing stronger by the minute. What would I tell him? How would I tell him?
I tried to figure it out on the car ride home, holding back tears as Damien rambled on about some trivial issue they were having at work. He was oblivious to the fact that this was the last day we’d spend together. He seemed so happy and at ease talking about the day-to-day minutiae now. I thought back to when we had first met, when he was terrified to tell me that he and Alex had such eminent, well-paying jobs. Once he learned I wasn’t after their money, he had decided he could trust me. And now I was going to hurt him. Again.
He knows you’ll be leaving soon, I told myself. This will just be a little earlier for him than expected. It was a shitty excuse for myself that even I didn’t believe.
The car ride went quickly, and by the time he pulled into the apartment complex, I still wasn’t sure what I was going to do or say. All I knew was that I couldn’t do it right now. My heart, as selfish as it was, wouldn’t let me. It would hurt too bad to see the look on his face.
Damien parked the car and, before I could say a word, leaned over and kissed me hard. I kissed him back with everything I had, savoring my last moments with him and trying desperately to convince myself that this was for the best. He and Alex needed each other, and they had only known me for a couple of months. I was an obstacle for Damien, whether he realized it or not.
He finally broke our kiss, and I grabbed my backpack from the floor and stepped out of the car. That final kiss was the best way to end this, the best thing that I could hold onto in the future.
“Serena, wait.” I leaned down slightly to face Damien, one hand on the door frame. “It’s probably too complicated and too early for me to say this, but . . .” He took a deep breath. “But, I love you.”
My breath hitched, and I swallowed down the sob rising from my throat. Why did he have to say it now?
I gave him a sad half-smile and did the only thing I could do. “Goodbye, Damien,” I whispered. Then I closed the car door and walked away.
Before I could even round the corner to the backside of the apartment complex, tears were spilling down my cheeks, and I let out the sobs I had been holding back. He loved me. Why the hell did he have to say it now and make this so hard? He couldn’t love me. I was leaving in two months anyway, moving to the other side of the country. He knew that.
I managed to get into my apartment before collapsing on my armchair and sobbing. The same thoughts circled like a carousel through my mind; I couldn’t come between Damien and Alex, I couldn’t fall in love right before I left, I couldn’t count on a future with two men who had their lives figured out when I never knew what the hell I was doing. It wasn’t fair to them. None of this was.
Every time I had thought my tears had dried up, I thought of the vulnerability in Damien’s eyes and voice as he told me he loved me, and I lost it again.
When I was finally able to stand up again, I walked to where I had thrown my backpack by the front door and pulled out my phone. One text from Damien. Hey, I’m sorry if that was weird. Just forget about it.
It took an hour of typing, then backspacing, and typing some more before I had the nerve to hit send. I’m sorry, Damien. It wasn’t that. I’ve just been thinking lately, and I have so much to do and figure out before I move. None of this is due to what you did or said. I’ll always care for you, but I don’t think I can see you or talk to you anymore. It will hurt too much for both of us when I do leave. I wish you everything you could ever want in life. I’ll miss you.
As soon as the message went through, I powered off my phone and pulled out my laptop and a bottle of vodka, doing what I always do when I can’t handle my own emotions: numbing myself through alcohol and work. I refused to let my mind linger on the pain.
Two weeks went by, and I had once again forced myself into a routine where I had no time to think about anything except school, work, moving, and money. I had come to the decision that I would leave at the end of April when the lease expired, take whatever they might give me back from the security deposit, and live in my car for a few weeks until I finished school. It would be tough, but I was beginning to get used to the idea; I would sell most of my belongings online aside from some essentials to get me through a few weeks, I’d be able to use the university’s gym to shower, and I could hang out in the library when I wanted some space to study and relax. It wouldn’t be fun, but it would be doable. I had also decided to pull the trigger and pay for the security deposit for the apartment in California. The money had been sitting untouched in my account since I had saved it up, and paying it now gave me one more thing to take off my plate, so to speak.
It was funny, really. Other than making the payment and securing my apartment, I had barely thought about the job or moving to California in the past two weeks. Of course, it crossed my mind when I was planning on what would fit in my car and what I should sell, but I wasn’t anticipating it like I thought I would. In fact, when I did happen to think about it, I didn’t feel any excitement, just anxiety. What if I didn’t like California? What if the job sucked? What would I do if I spent all of my money to get there, then got stuck in a place I hated?
I guess I would deal with it then, if that’s what it came to. But for now, I needed to get shit done.