Page 22 of Never Enough

“God, D-daphne.” Alex’s voice breaks. “When I’m w-with you, it’s the only time I f-feel like I might have a chance at happiness.” He takes a deep breath, likely to settle his nerves. “Every touch from her is a lie. Every smile, every kiss… It’s all just a performance, but with you, everything’s real.” He reaches out, his fingers tracing the line of my jaw, setting fire to my skin. If we feel the same, why can’t we be together?

“Then let’s not play their games anymore,” I say, my breath catching as his thumb grazes my bottom lip.

“Can we do that, please?” His voice is hopeful. Walk away from sacrificing our own happiness for others; walk away from avoiding our feelings for the sake of his sister.

Walk away from the trauma of his suicide attempt and my mother’s attempted murder so we can heal together. Not apart.

“I’d like to try,” I whisper back, leaning into his touch, letting the magnetic pull between us draw me closer until our lips are only a short breath apart.

“Trying soundssogood but, baby, I don’t want to try; I want todo.“ He leans in and brushes his lips against mine, making the rest of the world fade away.

I’m so lost in his kisses and words that, when he pulls away, I blink at his gorgeous face. “Sorry, what?”

“Go out with me.”

“Yes,” I say, then thinking better of it, I add, “What about your girlfriend?” Look, it’s not that I yearn to be another woman, and truthfully, I don’t think I ever could, but you never know until you’re in the situation, and right now I’d beg for even a scrap of him. Does that make me pathetic? I don’t fucking know, but at least I’m strong enough to admit it.

He places my chin between his index finger and thumb to better gaze directly into my eyes. “Celeste and I ended our relationship already.”

“Err, when? She was literally just talking about your dick less than an hour ago.”

He crinkles his nose but answers, “Yesterday. I agreed to pretend that we’re together for a little bit longer; that way, we don’t have to explain our breakup while she’s still broken up about it, or whatever.” He says the last part like he can’t believe anyone would be heartbroken over him, but I do. I believe.

“So, while we’re dating, you want to fake date Celeste at the same time?” I rethink the logistics. He wants to go out with me secretly so he can pretend to be in a relationship with Celeste. Uh.

He grimaces. “I sound like a douche, don’t I?” I place my hand over his. “We can wait until the public knows Celeste and I are broken up.”

“No!” I rush. “All that matters is that you two aren’t together. We can keep our relationship on the down-low for a few weeks.”

“You’re sure?” he murmurs. “Because I really like you, Daphne. I don’t want to fuck this up between us.”

This time, I give it more thought.

I think of mom’s fingertips on my neck as she shoves my head under water.

I think of Alex’s hanging form in his closet.

And mostly, I think of our chemistry. The kind that has the ability to push me forward and make me forget. Well, maybe forget is a bit too strong. I can never forget, but I can have the edges blurred enough that it doesn’t pierce my skin.

“Yes,” I finally answer. “I’m sure.”

Chapter nine

Daphne

Dating someone secretly while they’re pretending to be with someone else is really tough.

I sit on Alex’s couch, my legs tucked under me. The room is dim, just the glow from the streetlamp outside filtering in. His dorm suite smells like him, a mix of cologne and laundry detergent.

Plato had it figured out, I think. Kindred spirits, two halves of the same soul. It’s not about completing each other, but recognizing yourself in another. That day on the sidewalk, Alex with his back against the wall, words tripping over his tongue, bullies laughing… I didn’t feel sorry for him. I saw myself. Our connection was instant.

“Comfortable?” he asks, breaking into my thoughts.

“Very,” I answer, trying to sound casual. Still, there’s tension here. We can’t go out, can’t be seen. Because of Celeste.

He shifts beside me, feigning interest in some book on his coffee table. We’re supposed to be watching a movie while pretendingthis is normal. But how can it be? I’m the secret, the other woman, even though Celeste is the one playing pretend.

Alex’s spine is a rod, stiff and unbending. He blinks once then twice, too slowly, like he forgets how. I reach out, my fingers finding his clammy ones, and squeeze. It’s called grounding. I learned it as a teenager when my fourth foster parents forced me into therapy.