What?

“What?”

“I said-"

“I know what you said, Jake. But we have a king sized bed here, it’s not like we haven’t slept in the same bed before. Did I do something?”

“Whatever, Micky. Just pick so I can get some sleep. I’m tired as fuck.”

Micky? He never calls me Micky.

“What happened? You never call me Micky.”

“Well, maybe I should, that’s what your friends call you right?”

“Jake-"

“Well, if I’m not your boyfriend, and I’m not your friend, then what the fuck am I?” he’s yelling at me. “What the fuck am I to you, Mikayla? Tell me, please, because you sure as shit aren’t making it clear!”

I look down and shrivel into myself, hoping to god this isn’t happening. Because I need him, so bad. And he hates me right now.

*Jake*

“So?” I ask.

“Jake, I can’t, I can’t be more than this, not now, not yet.” Her voice breaks as tears form in her eyes. She won’t look at me.

“More than what, Mikayla?” I growl out. “More than friends? We’re more than friends and you know it. You can’t deny it either, all the touching and feeling. The innocent kisses and fucking hand holding. You,” I point to her. “You sitting on my goddamn lap whenever you get the chance. Last night, when you were riding my dick? And I made you come? That’s what friends fucking do, Mikayla?”

“Jake, that’s bullshit, don’t put it all on me. You know damn well you’re partly responsible for that too. It’s not just me. It never has been.”

“I’m not the one denying anything, Micky.” I spit out again, just to bring it home. “You’re the one that can’t decide what the fuck we are.”

“I don’t know!” she yells, standing up. Her voice is hoarse and tears are leaking from her eyes faster than she can wipe them away. She’s biting her lip so hard she’s going to draw blood. “I don’t know what the fuck to say, Jake. I mean, you have to know how I feel about you. You have to know that I…” she trails off.

“That you what, Mikayla?”

“I don’t know, okay?” She starts pacing the floor. I stand and watch her. “I just know that we can’t be together, not in that way. It’s just too much. I’m not ready. It’s just too fucking soon and I’m not fucking ready for it,” she screams louder with every word. She calms her breathing down and looks at me. “I just, you know how I feel, Jake. I just want you. Just you…”

*Mikayla*

Instantly, he’s rushing over to me and pins me against the wall. He lifts me up by my ass and I automatically wrap my legs around his waist. He’s kissing my neck, my collarbone. My face. Anywhere but my mouth.

I’m gripping his hair, my head thrown back to give him better access to my neck, I’m moaning and groaning and I’m so fucking wet, I’m sure he can smell it. I want him so bad. God, I want him.

He leads me to the bed and places me down. His lips never leaving my skin. He starts to remove my top and I sit up to help him pull it off. I’m not wearing a bra and my nipples are so hard they could cut glass. I’m so fucking turned on. He continues to kiss my neck while one hand cups my breasts gently and passionately. I scream quietly into the air. He position himself between my legs and I let out a cry as we start to move together. His lips get lower and lower on my neck until they reach my chest. He starts to kiss my breasts, one after the other, then licks in the dip between. I’m about to lose control, then his tongue is on my nipple and his mouth covers it, sucking gently, then moving to the other and doing the same, licking, and sucking and nipping each one. My hands are gripping the comforter under us and my head is thrashing side to side on the pillow. I’m struggling to keep from crying out loud, the pleasure is That. Fucking. Amazing. Then his mouth goes lower, and lower, his tongue dipping into my naval and I know where this is going and I want it So. Fucking. Bad. I want to cry in anticipation. His hands go to the band of my pants as he slowly starts to pull them down. My hands go to his hair, as I not so subtly push him further down, begging, pleading for a release, the alcohol making me braver.

“What do you want, Kayla?” he asks.

“What?” My brain is too fuzzy from the heat between my legs.

“What do you want?”

I stop to think about what he’s asking. “I still don’t know, Jake.”

He sits up, and my body already misses him.

“I can’t be what you want,” he says, slowly coming to a stand. I whimper internally for him to come back. “I need to be more than this,” he says, pointing his finger between him and me and our state of lust, “you need to pick. It’s all or nothing.”

I can’t. I can’t pick. I sit up and pull my pants up, then throw my top over my head to cover myself. I start sobbing uncontrollably. I can’t lose him but I can’t give him everything yet, and he deserves everything.

“I can’t, Jake.”

“What do you mean you can’t? You can’t choose? Or you can’t be with me?”

“Yes.”

“To which one?”

“It’s been six fucking months, Jake. Six months since my life turned to shit.”

He flinches at my words and I know he’s taken it the wrong way. It’s not about him, not at all.

“Jake, that’s no-"

“It can be six months, or six fucking years, Mikayla. Your boyfriend will still be an asshole, your best friend will still be whore, and your family will still be dead!” he spits.

My eyes snap to his and I see the regret instantly.

“Kayla, baby, I’m sorry, I’m a dick. I shouldn’t have sa-"

“Go to hell, Jake.”

“Kayla, please.” He’s crying now, voice breaking.

“Get the fuck out, Jake!” I scream at him.

He flinches but walks out the door, closing it quietly behind him.

I don’t see him for the rest of the night.

Chapter 46

*Jake*

I left Kayla alone in the hotel.

I ended up crashing at Cam and Dylan's dorm.

They asked what happened. I told them to fuck off. They left me alone.

I’m at the school gym lifting weights to try to get rid of this angry energy I have.

I’m pissed off. I’m pissed off that I fucked up. That we fucked up, both of us. Because it’s not just me. It’s her too.

We both said shit that we can’t take back, and I think this is it. This is the point where it’s over. I’m so fucking angry because it never began and she won’t give me the chance to try.

I’m being a dick and not concentrating on what I’m doing and I think I end up putting the wrong weights on the bar because when I go to press them, I can’t, and I’m fucking struggling to get the bar off my chest.

“Woah.” I hear, as someone comes to spot me and get the bar back on the rack.

James. Of course it is.

“You all right, man?” he asks.

“I’m fine, asshole,” I spit out.

He’s taken aback for a second, before he removes his earphones and starts winding them around his iPod, like he’s ready to have a long conversation.

Great, just what I fucking need.

“I uhhh..” he clears his throat. This kid’s awkward as hell. “I heard you went to Emily’s grave on her birthday.”

I look at him sideways.

“Micky told me,” he states.

I don’t care.

He takes a deep breath in and then sighs out loud.

I don’t say anything. Just sit on the bench and wait or him to fuck off.