Chapter 19
Chapter 19:
I feel like I’m sinking into this sofa, my heart tearing into shreds as I watch Isla and Dominic whispering and giggling together, their fingers entwined so tightly it makes me sick looking at them. Dominic’s free hand rests on one of Isla’s exposed thighs, his fingers caressing her skin, and all I can think about is chopping them off.
I can deal with the obvious kissing show Sandra and Ethan are putting on beside me, but my insides twist painfully as I watch Isla cuddled up with Dominic on that damn sofa directly across from me, wearing those blue jean shorts that are driving me insane.
And that crop top isn’t helping either.
I know it’s not my place to ask, but did what happened between us last month mean anything to her? Or was it a mistake in her eyes?
The movieShotgun Weddingis playing on TV, and I’m forcing myself to focus on Jennifer Lopez as she lights those pirates on fire with a cigarette in her mouth. The fire of jealousy and anger burns inside me, but I know better than to act on it.
The smooching sounds from Sandra and Ethan only pound harder in my ears with every passing second, and I try to block them out as best as I can. I’m not even angry at them—I’m envious. They get to hold, kiss, and cherish each other so openly and freely.
And I can’t even do that with the woman I love sitting a few feet away.
When the film credits finally begin to roll, I groan in sheer relief. Tonight, I don’t feel like watching another movie. I want to go upstairs, collapse onto my bed, and sulk my feelings away.
Everyone else seems to silently agree with me, still wrapped up in their partners, lost in each other’s faces.
I’ll retreat to my room without disturbing anyone.
I grab a can of Royal Dansk cookies from the table before turning to head upstairs.
“Asher p>
I freeze at Isla’s soft voice calling my name. My heart clenches, and briefly, I wish more than anything that I wasn’t in love with her.Somehow, I manage to turn…
around, meeting her glassy blue eyes, which seem to shine so brightly even in the dim light of the room.
“Where are you going?” she asks. I see her eyebrows raise.
“I’m going upstairs. To my room p>
She says nothing. Dominic wraps his arm tighter around her, and I take that as my cue to leave.
I turn away and head toward the stairs. Reaching the staircase, I take two steps at a time. Within seconds, I’m already in front of my room, pushing the door open.
I step inside and shut the door behind me, releasing a deep, heavy sigh of relief.
𝕄ØЯE 𝕌PĐΛTΞŞ IИ GΛŁИØVΞŁŞ.ᑕØᗰ
My heart still pounds in my chest, my back pressed against the door, my feet glued to the floor. Forcing myself forward, I walk over to the bed and sink into the softness of the blue sheets.
I lie down, staring up at the ceiling.
It fucking hurts to love someone you may never have. I use the word “may” because it screams of hope. And that hope is the torture. The torture of still hoping and waiting, hoping again and waiting again, that one day your feelings can finally be expressed the way they’re meant to be.
Without fear. pure. Wanted. Accepted. Cherished.
I pop open the can of Royal Dansk cookies in my hand and toss one into my mouth. Despite the ache swelling in my heart and the sting in my eyes, I still have to admit this cookie tastes good.