Eighty-one

Silence is our best friend as Brandon carries me up the stairs. He lowers me to the bed, I latch on to him, afraid to let go for fear of him leaving the room. Panic sinks its claws into my heart when he retracts my hands from his body, I gulp, he hasn't said a word since my confession downstairs. I should have kept my mouth shut, kept kissing him.

"Brandon," I say. His face is unreadable, my heart skips. "I'm sorry for what I said." 

He kneels between my legs, smiles. "Don't be."

My fingers reach for his beards, they are shinier like he took extra time with them today but he turns his face away and my hand drops to my legs. I try to remind myself it has nothing to do with me, that this is not revenge and he still finds me attractive. Pulling the cover to my chest, tears coat my lashes, I take in a deep breath and exhale slowly. 

"I am sorry." Brandon squeezes my knees, I clutch the bedcover