Chapter 29

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(NATHAN'S POV)



"I hope you're happy."

My heart dropped.

As she turned away and ran out the door, my tongue was glued to my mouth. My feet were stuck to the floor. It was like I was watching all this play out in my head; none of it seemed real.

I couldn't say half the things on my mind. That this had become so much more than a simple fucking deal. That since that first day we had stayed up together, everything had changed. That I wasn't ready to accept the fact that she had become such a huge part of my life. That she meant so damn much to me.

Our deal on crying? Hell, that was the last fucking thing on my mind. After my stupid movie attempts, I had personally called quits on the deal.

I was close, this close, so damn close to calling after her. My mouth hung open a bit at the empty door, my heart willing me to just fucking say something.

"I'm not." It came out muffled, like a pitiful, mournful whisper rather than the sharp and cool response I was going for.

Fuck. Not that.

Say something better, say something that will make her turn around. Say something that will fucking stop her tears.

I struggled to maintain my composure, to maintain the cool, nonchalance that had been plastered against my face for the last ten minutes.

The face that I had so coldly held to Arianna's questioning, bewildered one.

Swallowing deeply, I moved with heavy, lead legs to my bed. My bones felt impossibly dense, weighing me down.

I sat numbly on my bed, not exactly sure what the hell had just happened.

You fucked up, my mind reminded me curtly. That's what happened.

I groaned and shoved my thoughts away.

I didn't want to think.

I couldn't.

In fact, the only damn thing I wanted to do was get drunk beyond belief and then pass out on my bed to wake up to an ear-splitting headache.

That was the only thing that seemed plausible and the only thing that I was certain of at the time. I stared at the bottle of Jack Daniels sitting against the doorway. If I drank that all in one sitting, I would get drunk. Now that was a fact.

Who the hell knew that if I had said all that to Arianna, she would've cried?

Jesus.

I pulled my fingers through my hair in distress, in anger and in pure frustration.

I couldn't understand the feeling that was tugging at my heart, at the very edge of my gut. It was the feeling that had unearthed itself once Arianna began to cry, and it was the feeling that was weighing me down so horribly at that moment.

Guilt. I was sure of it.

Was this what guilt felt like?

Dammit.

I hadn't felt this shitty and this horrible in a long time. I hadn't felt like someone was taking a fucking sledgehammer to my gut and just pounding incessantly in forever.

Guilt. Why was I feeling guilty?

Why?

Was it because of her? Because of the girl who had made me fall so damn hard for her?

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