Page 65 of Holding Out for a Gyro
“You don’t even know me, Bas.” She sniffled. “I’ve only shown you what I wanted you to see.”
“We all put forward a public image, but I think you’ve let me see past that. I think I’m getting know you.”
“You don’t understand.” She shook her head, finally looking up at me. “I haven’t been real with you. I’ve been pretending to be someone I’m not, testing out a version of myself who could handle a romantic relationship. But I failed the test. And I think the experiment has come to an end.”
“What do you mean?” I took in her defeated body language and realized she was trying to push me away. “Are you giving up?”
“I warned you on day one that I’m incapable of a real relationship.” She gestured at herself. “This is why.”
“You also told me you aren’t worthy of love and can’t trust anyone who wants to be with you.” I leaned in to drive home the point. “You are, and you can.”
“Maybe one day, but not right now.” Her tears started to fall again. “I’m sorry, Bas. I never meant to hurt you.”
The room spun, and spots appeared in the corners of my eyes. “But everything has been so good between us.”
She shook her head. “This whole thing between you and me? It’s been make-believe. Playing house.”
That was bullshit. I raked a hand through my hair. I’d been there when she’d capitulated every step of the way. The only pretense were these walls she built. “It’s as real as you want it to be, Chelsea.”
She swallowed, like she was gathering courage to say something I wouldn’t want to hear. “I shouldn’t have dragged you into my drama. I really am sorry.”
I stepped in and grasped her wrist as I’d done so many times before, barking, “What are you so afraid of?”
She stared down at my hand in wide-eyed horror, and I suddenly saw the scene from her point of view. The white marks where my fingers pressed into her skin, how my angry tone had transformed my desperation into sheer menace. I let go and raked a hand through my hair. “Oh my God. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Fuck. Who ever means to?
I needed to remove myself from this situation before I made everything worse for her. I grabbed my coat and bolted from the kitchen, turning back once to see the stricken look on her face. “I’m so sorry, Chelsea.”
The door rang out a finality when it slammed, and I ran all the way home, leaving my car behind, buried under a layer of snow.
Chapter Seventeen
Chelsea
Challenge: Join a local writing group
As soon as Bas walked out, I gasped for air.
He reminded me so much of my dad in that moment. Not when he grabbed me; I knew he’d never hurt me. But when he walked away.
He left.
Oh my God. He left me.
Of course he left me; I’d pushed him away.
I watched his expression as he realized I wasn’t this marshmallow hidden inside a spiky shell. I was all spikes, and he’d fallen into my Venus man trap. My regret was almost instant. I wanted to tell him he’d been the reason I’d wanted to try at all. If I could’ve made it work with anyone, it would’ve been him.
But that wouldn’t be fair to him.
So I watched from behind my walls as he sucked on his lip and then chose dignity over bargaining. Or maybe he chose my wishes over his. Either way, he walked out the door.
Elizabeth swept me into a hug. “Hey, there. Let’s go sit down.”
He was so much better off without me. I smacked myself in the forehead with both hands. Again. And again. “Why can’t I pretend to be normal?”
“You are normal, Chelsea.” She led me to the sofa. “You’re not yourself tonight.”
He’d probably never forgive me, and it hurt the most knowingI’d lost his friendship.
