Page 164 of Hunger

She turns to face me. “I’m sorry. I can’t. I’m gonna end up really badly hurt.”

“We can change the—”

“No rules! I can’t do this! Even after one night, I know I’m gonna end up in pain. In a month, I’ll be in hell! I don’t want to depend on someone who’s not going to be there.”

“Indie, I’m working on it.”

“Oh, lucky me. And what if you can’t work it out?!”

I drop my head, staring at the floor between us, my heart hollow in her chest, both at the idea of leaving, and because I want to know what her nightmare was about, but know she won’t tell me.

But then, I can’t exactly talk. I've never shared the things that plague me with anyone. Not the full story, anyway.

“Indie, I want to try.”

“Well, trying’s not good enough!”

Sweat makes her skin glisten, turning the white cotton translucent in parts. It begs me to pick her up and hold her until she calms down, but I’m afraid I’ll only make her panic more.

A single tear floats down her face. “I’m sorry. I… I can’t do this. I need you to leave. Please.”

“I can’t leave while you’re in this state.”

“I’ll get over it. It’s not the first time. Thank you for all the stuff with my ex, but I can’t see you anymore, Grey. Not like this. Maybe one day we can be friends or something.”

The word grates through me.

I want to fight. To tell her that I’ll be there, but I don't know if my pain will become her disaster somewhere down the road.

“Please,” she insists, her respiration shaky, her hands quivering. “I’m sorry but I need you to leave.”

I take a step towards her. “Indigo.”

She thrusts her palm out, taking a step back, panic coursing through her system. “No,” she mutters breathlessly. “This arrangement is not going to work for me. Thanks for the sex… and the closure, or whatever this was, but I can’t do it again. I’m going to end up in hell. I just know it.”

“Indie, listen to me.”

“No!” She takes a step back. “We can stay friends. That’s it. I can’t see you anymore. I need you to leave.Please.”

37

Indigo

One week later

“Come on. He’s really nice. Plus, it’ll do you good.”

I swirl the rooibos leaves around in my glass teapot as I try to tell Carrie for the fifth time that I’m not into blind dates, especially seeing as I keep hallucinating the taste of Greyson Everitt’s tongue in my mouth.

This date technically wouldn’t be blind, for apparently, I met this guy she wants to set me up with at the wedding, although my thoughts were so polluted that day by both my ex and a certain breathtaking groomsman whose eyes I felt burning into me for every minute of the ceremony, that I barely remember anyone but them and the gorgeous bride, at this point.

“What’s this guy’s name again?”

Carrie lets out a sigh of exasperation, though I detect a breath of amusement lingering therein. “This’ll be the third time I’m repeating it, girl. Philip.Phi-lip.”

“Sorry. Also, I swear to God, I have no memory of talking to a Philip.”

“Well, he remembers you. Tom says he’s a really great guy.”