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51. Drew

FIFTY-ONE

drew

The streetlight from the window danced over Bellamy's perfect face, casting shadows over his broad shoulders as he moved over me. I clung to him like I could keep him forever if I just held on tight enough.

"You feel so damn good," he whispered into the crook of my neck, fucking me deeper. Harder.

I needed this—him—and it terrified me that I could sense him pulling away.

Rejection burrowed into me like a disease, the symptoms of which hadn't yet fully arisen. But they would. And I knew the feeling well because I'd suffered it my entire life.

What would happen if I went to Cornell?

Bellamy would stay here. We would have a long-distance relationship where we saw each other, when? Every other weekend? I knew how that went when people ran out of things to say in phone calls and life went on without the person who was so far away. I'd done it with my parents when I went to boarding school. At first, my dad called me every day and now look at us...

Bellamy would stop missing me because he'd learned to live with my absence. I'd learn to stop missing him because it hurt too much to be away from him all the time. And our lives would drift apart. Then there was the massive elephant in the room that I liked to completely ignore, while Bellamy was now pointing at it and shouting in my face. Money.

It meant nothing to me and something to him, and I hated that. Hated that it was a factor and love wasn't enough to save us.

I loved him; of that, I was one hundred percent sure. But I wasn't sure if he loved me. Maybe that was why he wanted me to go to Cornell because deep down, he didn't feel the same.

His lips brushed my throat on a groan. Each powerful muscle tensed beneath my fingers, and I met him right there, digging my nails into his back as we both tumbled over the edge together.

He pressed one last kiss to my lips, then rolled to his back, panting.

I laid in the darkness, listening to the heavy rasp of his breaths as a plethora of thoughts flew through my mind.

He wanted me, but he also wanted me to go to New York, not to live this life with him. Back and forth, I went. It was like whiplash, and my panicked heart wouldn't seem to slow. Like it knew what was coming and bracing my body to run.

All my emotions felt like this messy, knotted ball inside me, and every doubt Bellamy had poured into my head earlier started to surface.

I waited until his breaths had evened out, until his fingers reached for me in sleep, before I got up and went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face, trying to calm down.

It would be fine. It would be fine.

When I slipped back into his room, the blue screen of his phone flashed and caught my attention. I glanced down at the ribbon of text still on the screen:

Nash: Did you figure out what to do about the girl with the pink Porsche?

Nash: I'm telling you. Resentment is a real thing.

Resentment? My chest tightened until I couldn't catch a good breath. Bellamy resented me… He wanted me to go. I was an issue to be fixed, something he needed a solution to. He wanted to break up. Was that why he'd started a fight tonight?

Tears pricked my eyes, and the ugly, black tendrils of rejection set in. The familiar symptoms rising like a rogue wave and drowning me in an instant. I couldn't stick around and wait for him to deal a death blow.

With tears silently streaming down my face, I forced myself not to get back in that bed, lay down, and pretend like everything would be okay. It clearly wasn't. So I got dressed, then collected my phone and purse, leaving all my other clothes behind.

I cast a glance at Bellamy, the pain in my chest digging in like claws. I wanted to kiss him, but I didn't want to deal with the mess of him watching me leave. Because I knew he wanted me. But he didn't.

It was only when I passed Arlo's ajar bedroom door that I realized I couldn't leave him without a goodbye.

I tore a page from the notepad in the kitchen and scribbled out a note:

Peehead,

I have to go away for a while, and I couldn't say goodbye. I'm sorry.

Look after your mom and be good.

I love you, little guy.

Drew

I left it on his bedside table, taking one last glance at how peaceful he looked with his unicorn clutched to his chest. Then I placed the rest of my cash on the kitchen counter for Carol. I wouldn't need it where I was going. Money wasn't an issue there.

As soon as I pulled out of the drive, I called my mom, refusing to look in my rearview mirror at the ramshackle little house that felt more like home than anywhere else ever had.

"Darling. I'm just having my morning mimosa. It must be late there..."

"Can you get me the next flight out?" Tears blurred the road in front of me.

"Of course. Dayton straight to Marseilles, first class." She sounded far too pleased about my heartbreak. "I'll send a car to pick you up once you land."

I was running to the only place I could go, the only place I had left. Halfway across the world, and I wasn't sure it would be far enough because with each passing moment, I was cracking open, bleeding from the inside out.

For the first time, I understood why people married for money and not love.

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