Page 70 of Beautiful Monster

“Alex!” I shout. “Answer me.”

Stuck with no other choice, he pushes me backward until my back is pressed against the wall and I’m out of view of the neighbors. It leaves our bodies inches apart.

“Are we friends, Sunny?” he gasps. “You think we can do stuff like that and still be friends?”

“Sure, why not?”

He shakes his head. “I’m too old to be your fucking friend. I’m trying to do right by you, be what you need, but so help me God…” He leans his head back like I’m hurting him. “Everything with you feels like a test I keep failing.”

“It’s not a test.”

“You’re too fucking young for me, Sunny,” he groans, his voice growing louder.

“Look at me right now and tell me you’ve never fucked someone my age.”

His gaze levels with mine, and I see the truth waiting to be spoken. “Of course I have.”

“So, why me? What’s the difference?”

He scoffs with a shake of his head. “Isn’t it fucking obvious?”

“Not to me,” I shout as he pulls away.

“The difference is that I care about you, Sunny. I care about you a lot.”

Reminded of our conversation this morning and the frustration he felt with me, I clench my jaw and reach for him again. Just like he did to me, I hold him firmly on the arms. With my bare skin against the wall, I touch his face. His eyes meet mine, and I watch him swallow.

“I’m not a child, Alex. And you are not a monster. Someday, you’re going to realize we could have something amazing together. But I guess you’ll get there on your own time.”

With that, I lean forward and press a chaste kiss to his cheek. Then, I march upstairs to shower alone in the guest bathroom. As I stand under the hot water, I realize that it might take a very long time for Alexander to forgive himself for how he’s behaved in his life. And I realize that he might think he’s here to protect me, but in my eyes, it’s me who is protecting him. I refuse to let him beat himself up anymore.

I’m ready to see him happy.

CHAPTER 22

SUNNY

The rest of the day is quiet. After the incident on the pool deck, he made quick work of ignoring me and acting like he had more important things to do. He’s slipped back into one of his neutral moods, but I know it’s just that—a mood. He’ll come back to me. He always does.

It’s well past midnight when I hear the patio door opening. I don’t know if he’s waiting for me to go to bed, but it’s obvious to me that he can’t seem to rest until I do. With this tension brewing between us, he can’t just walk away.

And neither can I.

I was supposed to be making this easy for him, and I know I’m not. I watched him grind his molars at dinner as I sauntered in with nothing but one of his T-shirts and a pair of bikini bottoms, but neither of us had done laundry for days and it was the last thing I had. He’s hardly one to talk with those gray sweatpants he walks around in. The house today feels like a ticking time bomb, and we’re both about to let it destroy us.

And at this point, I’m ready for an all-out war.

With music playing in the pool house, I try to focus on the veins of these flowers in gold and blue when I hear him sit on the couch. He takes a drink of what looks like seltzer but says nothing.

There is a sense of expectancy in the air, like we both know everything between us is about to change.

“It looks incredible,” he mumbles, a soft edge to his voice. “You are incredible.”

My hand freezes. The gentle praise washes over me in ways that feel foreign to me. It feels good but also is a sad reminder of how little I’ve gotten in my life. Who else has ever complimented my work like Alex?

“Thank you,” I whisper as I dab the brush in paint on my palette.

“This should be on the side of a building somewhere. Not in my pool house, but I’m selfish. I want it all to myself.”