Wallace
She leaned against him, as if he hadn't been the one to ruin everything, to ruin her. Here in this moment, she could pretend things were different. She could pretend she meant something to him. She could pretend when he brushed against her hair, it was out of love. And that when he called her exquisite it was believable, that he meant it, even as it stung her heart, burned her eyes, to know the truth.
He apologized for before and she ignored it, still waiting for her racing heart to steady again. Still reeling from --god, just everything. The man was a damn sex god. She didn't have to have experience to know it. She knew it even if he was the only man to have ever touched her. Even if he was the only one that ever would.
He placed a kiss on her neck and continued. I didn't know it could be different. And when I learned... And she wished she could pretend it was her that had taught him, wished it was her that had made him realize this profound thing that clearly changed him so drastically. That made him into someone better. That she could have an effect on someone. But she wasn't stupid enough to think it even for a moment, so she only kept her eyes away from him, guarded him from the childish vulnerability sitting there like some lovesick teenager.
Wishing gets you nowhere.
It was fine. All fine. Up until he apologized again. Did she look like she was broken up and shattered over this? He did what he did, and she still told him to do it again. She wasn't some fragile thing to be cradled and coddled and told such sweet lies to. All his "sorrys" got him was an ease on his own damn chest. The last straw was when he told her she deserved better.
He was all she was ever going to get, the stupid bastard. There was no better. There wasn't even a worse. There was only him.
She clenched her teeth and stood, turning straight toward the ocean where she would scrub his damn smell off her. Yeah, thanks, she muttered dryly, stepping away, walking away. I'm outta here. He could keep his stupid beautiful lies to himself. She was sick of hearing them; from him, from everyone. Nobody would ever want her after him, and she didn't blame them.
