The ride back is entirely silent, except for the radio. Sylas can’t seem to choose a station and it’s annoying. I want to reach out and stop his hand from pushing buttons and turning the dial and messing with the bass and volume.
He only stops doing it when we pull up in front of my apartment.
“Thank you again,” I say. Things are so awkward between us and I hate it. I could kiss him again, but that’s not going to solve anything. We could fuck each other over and over and it wouldn’t solve anything. It’s going to take more than our physical chemistry to get us past this point and talking again.
“Do you want to come in?” I ask, hating the way my voice sounds. Tentative and a little whiny. I hate feeling this way with him. I want to be confident and in-control again.
He starts to shake his head, but then turns and looks at me. His bottom lip is still red.
“Just to talk,” he says. “Nothing else.” He’s also a shadow of his former self. The man who said he wanted to fuck me on our first date is gone and I’m left with this stone-faced, quiet person I don’t know how to handle.
“Yeah, sure. Just to talk,” I echo and we both get out.
Eight
He sits on the couch and I get us both glasses of water. I briefly consider grabbing some alcohol, but that probably isn’t the best idea. If we drink, we’re going to get naked. It’s inevitable.
I hand him the sweating glass and he takes it with a nod.
“I hate this,” I say, shattering the silence. “I hate how we are now. I really hate it.” I pull my knees up and rest my chin on them.
He sets his water glass down on one of my coasters that’s shaped like a red heart and turns to face me.
“I hate it too.”
Good. We’ve agreed on something. That’s a start.
“Do you think it’s possible for us to start over? Go from square one?” I ask, and his mouth tightens into a line.
“I honestly don’t know, Saige. I appreciate you wanting to be honest with me from here on out, but that’s not enough. It’s not enough to undo what we did to each other.” At least he isn’t putting the blame solely in my hands.
“Then what is?” I say, picking up my water. My throat is so dry. I’m also starving. I haven’t eaten all day.
He rubs his eyes with one hand and takes another sip of water.
“That’s another question I can’t answer.”
“So we’re stuck. Like this. Forever,” I say.
He shrugs.
“Don’t you care? I know you at least miss having sex with me.”
“Saige, I…” He can’t seem to finish his thought.
“Even if you don’t want to have sex with me, we’re still connected. We’ll always be connected. By Lizzy.” I hate using this against him, but it’s the only card I have to play.
His eyes narrow at the mention of Lizzy.
“I know you want to protect her, but I’m not here to… get something out of her. As soon as I found out I had a sister, I wanted to get to know her. And Dad has spent forever waiting.” I probably shouldn’t bring him up, but he’s part of this too.
“I don’t trust your father,” he says. Does that mean he trusts me?
“I know. I don’t blame you. But about Lizzy, his motives are pure. Everything he’s done has been for her. Because of her.” I lean toward him and he doesn’t move away.
“I want to believe you, Saige. If you don’t know anything else, know that. That I want to believe you. It’s been just me and Lizzy for so long and to know that she has other family? A new sister she adores? It’s almost a miracle.” I let a breath out and the tightness in my chest lets up. Just a tiny bit. We’re making progress. Little, bitty, tiny steps.
“But I’m not willing to take risks where Lizzy is concerned.” I knew there was a “but” coming.
“I understand. But please, just think about it. For me?” I’m throwing everything I can into this.
He’s still for a long time and then his face softens.
“I’ll try.”
I can’t help but smile.
“That’s all I ask,” I say.
Thinking we should do something not quite so intense, I suggest we watch a movie. I have mounds of homework I should be doing, but I know I’m not going to be able to focus on it right now. My brain has too much else going on.
“How about Rear Window? I’ll watch it without any commentary,” I say, knowing that it’s his favorite Hitchcock film. Vertigo is most definitely better, but I’ll let this slide. Once.
The movie suggestion makes him almost smile. Close enough.
I put it in and go to make popcorn. I make that the way he likes it as well, with not too much butter and a lot of salt.
We sit close to each other on the couch, but the distance between us feels endless. He’s on one side of the Grand Canyon and I’m on the other.
And then, as if we’re in a movie, our hands collide in the popcorn bowl. As if fate engineered it. He pulls back first, but I grab his hand, which is a little slick from the butter.
“Do you believe in fate?” I ask him for the second time. The last time I asked, he told me he did. Something tells me the answer is going to be different this time.
Sylas looks down at our joined hands and then up into my eyes.
“No. No, I don’t.”
I nod and let go of his hand.
“That’s what I thought. I didn’t believe you the first time.” I didn’t believe a whole lot of what he said, but there were moments of pure truth and clarity.
“You didn’t?” He looks away from the movie.
“No. I pretty much assumed everything you said was a lie,” I say and he actually flinches.
“Does that bother you?” I say and he shakes his head.
“No.”
“Liar,” I say.
He sighs and goes back to the movie.
“I didn’t lie to you about everything,” he says, keeping his eyes on the screen.
“I know,” I say. “I didn’t lie to you about everything either.”
I didn’t lie to him all those times I told him that I loved him. When I told him that I didn’t know if I loved him, that was a lie. It’s the one I regret the most.
“There are more things you don’t know,” I say. I know I’m not supposed to talk to him about this, but I can’t hold it back anymore.
“What things?” he asks. It’s like he can’t look at me while he talks to me. I wish he would.
“I’m not supposed to tell you. Dad wants to talk to you.” At the mention of my father, he stiffens.
“About what?” His voice goes hard again.
I take a breath and then figure I’ve come this far now; I might as well keep going.
“He wants you to work for him.” He goes totally still. Not even blinking.
It takes him a long time to move.
“I knew it,” he says in a quiet voice. “I knew he wanted something else from me.”
“It’s not like that. You both have the same goals. To bring down corporate corruption. You’re so much alike.” I didn’t mean to say the last part, but it comes out anyway. His head snaps around.
“I am nothing like him.” He’s furious. I’m actually grateful for some sort of emotion from him. I know he’s been holding himself back for a while.
He gets to his feet and starts to storm toward the door.
“Wait, Sylas!” I race after him and he rips the door open.
“Don’t, Saige. Just don’t.” Pain. Sharp, brilliant, naked pain replaces the anger in his eyes and I freeze. He takes one last look at me and then he’s gone.
I call Dad after Sylas leaves. Mostly to tell him that I blew it. To say he’s not pleased would be an understatement.
“How could you, Saige? All that work for nothing.”