A Safe Space (Someone Else's Fairytale Book 4) (25 page)

I sniffle and wipe my eyes with the back of my hand.

“You feeling better?” he asks.

I shake my head.

“Look, I’m not going to take advantage of you while you’re upset and crying like this. I won’t be that guy.”

I take a step back and shrink away from him, my shoulders rolling forward and my eyes turning away. “Sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry. Just don’t fling yourself at random men when you’re unhappy.”

“That isn’t what I’m doing.”

“Sure it isn’t.”

“How many men do you think I ever even talk to? Outside of work? Why do you think I chose you to kiss when I wanted to have a first kiss that really meant something? I love you, and—”

“Stop saying that. Why would you even think that? This is
me
we’re talking about.” Now he’s angry.

“Yeah, so?”

He dumps another stack of plates on his counter and gestures around at his tiny, filthy apartment. “Not exactly a great catch.”

I am not in the mood to argue. “I can leave if you want.”

He looks me up and down and grabs another bundle of laundry.

“Is that what you want?” I press.

The laundry flies through the air to land in the corner.

“Is it?”

He rounds on me. “No.”

“No?”

“What do you need, Lizzie?”

“To feel like I mean something to you. That I’m not just some annoying conquest who can’t leave you alone.”
Even though that’s what I am
, I think.

He looks at me. “Of course you mean something to me.”

I wipe away another tear. “More than Rachel does?”

“Huh?”

I look away.

With a sigh, he scratches his chest through his shirt. “I’m not even sure what kind of question that is.”

“I want a chance with you. Do I even stand a chance?”

“We’re friends. Let’s not screw that up.”

“I’m not your
friend
,” I say. “I try to be, but it’s not like that. I just want to be around you—”

“Girl, you have problems, all right?”

I sniffle.

He shakes his head, then comes over and grips my upper arms firmly. His gaze locks with mine and he says, “I am not the guy for you.”

“Devon,” I whisper.

He winces. “Every time you say my name, I have this uncontrollable urge to kiss you.”

Hope surges in me. “Okay,” I say. “Devon.”

He shakes his head. “I can’t, all right? Why don’t you get it?”

“Get what?” I ask.

His grip tightens to the point it almost hurts.
This is bad,
I think.
This could get violent.
Kyra would
kill
me if she knew where I am right now.

He sees my fear, though. His hands relax and he hangs his head. “Sorry.”

“Why are you so angry?”

In one swift motion he backs me up against the wall and presses his mouth to mine.

I let him lead, dreading the possibility that he’ll push me away and show me the door. He doesn’t. The kiss lingers, and when our lips finally do part, he exhales a shakey breath and looks me in the eye.

I smile through my tears.

He leans in for another kiss as if he has no choice.

My fingers stroke down his chest.

“Don’t,” he whispers.

“I’m not—”

“Just stop, okay?” he snaps, pulling back.

I hold up my hands in surrender.

He looks down at me like I’ve put a knife in his chest and am twisting it slowly, then he wraps his arms around me and buries his face in my hair.

My heart aches more and more, the longer the embrace goes on. I don’t want it to stop, but it’s obvious from the way his chest heaves and his hands shake that all of this hurts him.

“I want us to be together,” I whisper.

“Meaning?”

“I want to be your girlfriend.”

He pulls back and those eyes of his snap open and search mine. He says nothing.

My lip starts to tremble as more tears well up. Now I’ve really blown it. “You think I’m just a stupid—”

He cuts that short with a kiss then whispers, “No. Not stupid.”

“No girl gets to date you. You’re—”

“Lizzie,” he says. “Stop.”

“Why can’t we be together? I just don’t make the cut?”

“It has nothing to do with you.”

“So there’s nothing I can do about it?”

He wraps his arms around me and lifts me off the ground.

I don’t resist as he carries me over to his bed and lays me down. He slides my boots off and drops them on the floor.

I keep on crying, which I know is the most pathetic, needy, mortifying way to have this conversation. I’m in too much pain to stop.

“Do you not like me?”

He sits on the edge of the bed and lets out a sigh. “Any guy would be lucky to have you.”

“But you’re not interested?”

“There are days I wish I’d never found you again.”

Ouch
.

He slides his finger across my cheek, catching my tears. “I just don’t know what to do with you.”

I shut my eyes and let myself sob. “I used to dream of finding you again,” I hiccup between sobs.

“What?”

“Or someone like you. You were always so nice to your sister. You’d have done anything for her. I’ve always wanted to find someone who felt that way about me.”
Girl
, I think,
you keep making this so much worse. Stop being so pathetic.

“Well, yeah, that’s what you deserve,” says Devon.

From someone else
, I think. Not him. He’s not offering.

It’s clear that nothing I do is going to sway him, so I give up trying to hold it together. I hurt through and through. It doesn’t matter how many times Kyra’s told me that this would happen. The reality cuts like a someone taking sandpaper to my still-beating heart.

“Lizzie,” Devon whispers. He pulls his comforter over me and tucks a pillow under my head then rubs my back to help me relax. His sheets smell like him, like aftershave and musk, which only makes me cry harder.

He gets to his feet and I expect him to walk away, but instead he comes around to the other side of the bed and lays next to me. “Hey,” he says. “Shhh, Lizzie.” No kisses this time, just gentle touches to dry my tears.

I snuggle up against his chest and his arm slips around me. He takes a deep breath and holds me close. His muscles stay rigid, though. No caresses, and definitely no more kisses.

Defeated, I let myself drift off to sleep. At least he doesn’t ask me if I’m happy.

My phone alarm goes off in my purse and I jolt awake. I’m still in Devon’s bed, but he isn’t there. I reach out and feel next to me to see if there’s even a warm spot that he left; there isn’t. It’s only when I sit up and look around that I spy him lying on the floor with a pillow under his head. His eyes are open, watching me. When our gazes meet, he sits up.

“That can’t be comfortable,” I say.

He shrugs.

“You should have made me sleep on the floor. I’m the one who barged in.”

He chuckles at that and shakes his head. His joints pop as he stretches, and when he stands, I realize he’s wearing a shirt and boxers and his hair’s damp.

“You’re welcome to have a shower,” he says, “but I’m not gonna lie. It’s filthy in there.” He nods towards his bathroom door. “I tried to clean up, but…”

It’s then that I notice that his apartment is tidy. No dirty dishes, no dirty clothes. I can see the floor.

“I never let anyone in here,” he admits, “so I never cared what it looked like. You sleep okay?” He pulls a pair of jeans out from under his pillow and yanks them on.

I nod, roll out of his bed, and run my fingers through my hair before I pull my boots back on. In my purse is a hairbrush that I use to get rid of the bed-head look I’m sure I have and some gum that’ll have to suffice instead of a toothbrush right now. In the dim light of morning, I feel like a complete idiot, but I squelch that thought. I reached out to the one person I wanted to be with. Like Devon said, it’s not my fault the feeling isn’t mutual. Such is life. Not a big fan of my life at the moment.

“You want me to drive you to the airport?” he asks.

“Okay,” I whisper. I dig into my purse and pull out my car keys, which I hold out to him.

He blinks in surprise. “You’ll have to tell me how to get to your place first. Get your things.”

I nod.

Once we step out his front door, he sees my car and does a double take. “You didn’t bring Libby?”

“She’s not my car.” Libby is Kyra’s and he knows it.

“We gotta check. Are the windows broken?”

“It’s got an alarm, so no.”

“You realize that was completely insane?”

I don’t care, at the moment. I just walk to the passenger’s side and wait for him to unlock the door.

He stares at me then finds the button on the keychain to unlock the doors. I get in and buckle my seatbelt. He opens the driver’s side door and looks the seat over. It’s too far forward for him to fit, so I show him how to adjust it. He slides in and starts the engine.

“How long have you had this thing?”

“It’s old. Three years.”

“Yeah, ancient.” He snorts. “I’m scared I’m gonna scratch your paint job.”

“I don’t care.”

He looks sidelong at me as he pulls away from the curb at a snail’s pace. “So are you all right?”

I have no idea how to answer that without starting a conversation about what last night meant to him, and I don’t have the emotional energy for that. Besides, I already have enough of an answer. Whatever it meant to him, it clearly meant more to me. I’m the one in major pain this morning. He just seems a little subdued.

He glances at me again then shifts gears and starts down the street. “Where am I going?”

I pull out my phone and open up the maps application. “In two hundred feet, turn left,” it says.

He obeys, and we drive the rest of the way in silence. I don’t speak until we arrive at the apartment complex and I have to tell him where to enter the parking lot and where my space is. He glances at me several times but says nothing until we’re parked.

“You go on up and get your things. I’ll stay here,” he says.

I pop open my door and slide on out. If he doesn’t want to be seen with me first thing in the morning, fine. I need to not care.

Up in my apartment, Kyra’s door is shut and the silence is profound enough to ring. It’s too early for her to be up and getting ready for the gym. I text her phone and tell her about my having to leave and explain that “a friend” is driving me to the airport.

I toss two drawers full of clothes into my pink rolling suitcase, grab everything off my shelf in the bathroom, put it in my waterproof zip pouch, and I’m done. My passport is in my purse where it always is, and my boarding pass is on my phone. I zip the suitcase up and wheel it out to the elevator.

Devon is still sitting in my car, but he gets out to load my suitcase into the back. The chivalry is more than I can take, but today, I’m determined not to cry in front of him. Our hands brush as we wrestle with the suitcase to make it fit, and I look up at him.

He glances at me then looks away and runs his fingers through his hair.

“You can call me in Australia,” I say. “It won’t charge you extra. It’ll be like a local call for you.”

The look he gives me is inscrutable.

Lizzie
, I chide myself,
give it up
. I get back into the passenger’s seat. He slides in opposite me and pauses for a moment.

I wait for him to speak, but the moment passes and he doesn’t. Instead, he puts on his seatbelt and starts the car. We pull back out of the parking space and exit the garage.

Out my window, I see the gray morning and the palm trees lining the street. I use my phone again to guide him to the airport, and while I hope and plead with the powers that be that he’ll park the car and walk me in, my heart sinks when he chooses the lane that leads to the curbside drop off instead.

“Can I get your address?” he asks as he puts the car into park. “So I can get this thing back to your place? I forgot to note it down.”

I give it to him.

“Should I give the keys to Kyra or what?”

“Or keep them until I get back.”

“I’ll give them to Kyra when I see her.” He gets out of the car and helps me get my bag out of the back. “Have a safe flight, okay?”

I look up at him. I’m about to leave the continent. If I can’t be honest with him right now, when can I ever?

“I meant what I said last night.”

He raises his eyebrow.

“That I love you. And I want a relationship.”

“Lizzie…”

I lean up to kiss him like I have a right to, and while he hesitates, he doesn’t duck away. Past caring about looking pathetic, I throw my arms around his neck and kiss him like I’ve wanted to all this time, like I love him and don’t want any obstacles between us, because sensible or not, that’s how I feel.

At first his whole body goes rigid, but then he slips his arms around me and kisses me back. Once we part, he breathes like I’ve held him underwater for a full minute. I don’t dare look up at him, though. I grab my bag from his hand and dash for the sliding glass doors that let me into the departure lobby beyond. I don’t look back even though I want to beg him to call me. I’ve seen how that doesn’t work with other girls. He might let me slap him really hard, but that’s it.