You are worth this.
Her pace quickens. Her breath frays.
“Zach,” she moans, her thighs tightening around my head. “Don’t stop.”
I don’t.
I hold her tighter and guide her hips back to my mouth when she stutters. Her thighs begin to tremble, her voice falling apart around my name.
She’s close. So fucking close.
When she comes, it hits her hard. Her whole body jerks, her hips trembling as she cries out, raw and wrecked. I don’t stop until she’s pushing at my shoulders, too sensitive to take more.
She slides off me and collapses at my side, her chest heaving and her cheeks flushed.
For a long time, we don’t say a thing.
She’s curled against my chest, her breath soft and uneven. I place a hand on her lower back as I stroke her hair with the other, hoping I can keep the fractured pieces of her from slipping away.
“I’m sorry,” she says in barely a whisper.
“For what?” My voice is quiet and steady as I brace myself for what she says next.
“For showing up like this. For the things I said.”
I tilt her chin until her gaze meets mine. Her eyes are bloodshot, glassy, and far too sad for a girl who’s still learning how to be loved.
“You don’t ever have to apologize for coming to me when you’re upset.” I pause and brush my thumb across her cheek. “But I need to know what happened tonight. What made you feel like this?”
She sighs, her warm breath fanning across my skin.
“It wasn't just tonight,” she whispers. “It’s everything. It’s the internship. It’s college. It’s my father. All of it.” She exhales shakily. “And the messages,” she adds, quieter still. “People are still sending me screenshots with speculation… about you… about you and Jenni.”
Her name slices clean through the air, and my body goes rigid. “What the fuck—”
She stops me with a hand on my chest.
“I know it’s not true,” she says, her voice trembling. “Iknowyou’d never cheat on me, Zach.” Her voice cracks and it guts me. “It’s just… the way people say it. It’s like they know something I don’t and they’re waiting for me to break like I did in high school. They’re treating me the same way they did when I was with Jamie, like I’m just a girl on your arm, and it’s just so much pressure.”
“Why?” My thumb strokes the inside of her wrist, coaxing her to keep going.
“You love me so much.” Her voice is barely audible. “You’d do anything for me, and sometimes I wonder if I deserve it… if I’manythingwithout you making me feel that way.”
Fuck.
I sit up, hauling her with me, my hands cupping her face.
“You still don’t get it, do you, Honeycomb? You could give me nothing and you’d still be my everything.”
She lets out a shaky laugh, the sound barely there.
“You can’t mean that.”
“I do,” I say, and I mean every fucking word. Then I bend down, press my mouth to the honeycomb necklace I bought her back in high school. It’s a cheap chain, and an even cheaper charm. She has underwear that cost more, other jewelry that costs ten times more, and yet, she’s never taken it off. Not once.
That necklace has been against her skin for years—pressed to her collarbone, warmed by her body, carried into every room, every bed. It’s been closer to her than I’ve ever been allowed, and she keeps it there, because it’s mine.
Because I gave it to her.