Zeth nods, still unsmiling, still not displaying any of his usual arrogance. “Good. So admit it. You’re afraid of me getting bored of you.”
I hold my breath. I’m teetering on the brink; it seems as though this is a trap of some sort, and I guess in a way it is. Giving him this kind of information feels like giving him the upper hand. But fuck it. I’m so tired of dancing around things with him, not knowing what the hell is going on. This is all past due. “Yes.” My voice doesn’t shake. “I’m afraid of you getting bored of me. Before you brought Lacey to the hospital, you were clearly living a very different life to the one you’ve been living over the past few weeks. How long until screwing one chick isn’t enough for you? It’s basically a surprise every time I see you now. I suppose one day you’ll just stop coming, and that will be when. That will be when you’ve had enough. I’m assuming it’ll be soon.”
Zeth watches me as I say this. He doesn’t react. Doesn’t move an inch. When I’m finished, he sits up straight and turns away from me, looking out over the park before us. The thick silence that follows makes me feel like throwing up. But then he says, “I’ve never been looking for enough, Sloane. I’ve always been looking for less. And I’m tempted to walk away from this situation about fifty times a day because you’re more than that. You’re too much.”
My heart feels like it’s exploding in my chest. Too much? I feel absolutely ridiculous when my breath makes an audible choking sound in my throat. I’ve known it all along, but to hear him say it? It feels like I can’t breathe. “I’m not a psycho stalker, either, Zeth. I don’t want anything from you. I’m not gonna sit in my car outside your place in the pouring rain, listening to Depeche Mode, plotting ways of winning you over or something.” I get angry toward the end, feeling stupid, and my voice rises. I hate that he can make me feel like this. So worthless.
He lowers his head, tucking his chin into the collar of his jacket. He still doesn’t look at me. “That’s not what I meant, Sloane,” he says softly. “You’re not asking too much of me. You’re just too good for me.”
If I’d have been hit with a sledgehammer, I’d feel less surprised. He thinks…he seriously thinks that? “Zeth—”
Zeth doesn’t give me chance to question that. He stands abruptly, narrowing his eyes, though still not looking at me. “I’m going to wait for Lacey. I’ll swing by your place tonight. Gather some stuff together and be ready by eight.”
I don’t go straight back to the shrink’s apartment. I walk through the park and make a point of dragging my feet on the way back, not wanting to step foot in the building. There’s no way I’m risking running into that Newan woman. Not today. I’m in a foul mood after Sloane’s confession; I half wanted her to tell me to go fuck myself and never bother her again. That would have solved this precarious, alien situation I find myself in. But now I realize my situation, and it’s freaking me the fuck out.
She didn’t send me away. So now I’m with her. There’s no room for any other option. There won’t be any leaving her. There won’t be any going back, or changing my mind or getting bored. It’s kind of hilarious that Sloane thinks I’ll tire of her and kick her to the curb as soon as something more fascinating comes along. For me, there has never been nor ever will be anything more fascinating than her. I knew that back in that hotel room when I slept with her for the first time. That’s why I ran as fast and as far as I could. I wasn’t ready for this back then. I’m not ready for it now, but I’m just gonna have to get fucking ready. And fast. She did want me to go and get her last night, but I fell prey to stupid game playing that I’ve always said I wouldn’t partake in. I hate admitting it, but this whole fucking thing is making me behave in a way I swore I never would. I need to get my fucking shit together.
“Zeth! Hey!” Lacey jogs down the steps outside Newan’s ritzy building, grinning from ear to ear. She has a red A4 folder clutched to her chest, her hair a shock of golden curls blowing about her face as she runs toward me. My god. Sometimes…sometimes she looks just like—
“I have homework.” She slaps the folder into my chest, laughing, and the moment of half-remembered pain vanishes. “It’s just like fucking high school,” she tells me, whispering.
“Sweet. Twenty-six and still doing assignments. Why are you whispering?” I almost immediately regret asking. The reason becomes very clear, as Newan appears in the doorway.
“I thought you might be a little reticent to join us, Mr. Mayfair. I came down to have a quick chat with you about our last conversation.”