Chapter 85 : A Push Off The Bed
HAYDEN’S POV
I didn’t wait.
The second the words leave my mouth,what the hell did we do?—something inside me snaps into overdrive. Panic, sharp and suffocating, crawls up my throat before Stephen even has the chance to answer because I know exactly what we did and I can’t….
I won’t….let it mean anything.
I push off the bed so fast it makes my head spin. My pulse is hammering, my chest is tight, like the walls are closing in on me.
This is wrong. This is so fucking wrong.
“Don’t,” I say quickly, dragging a hand through my hair, pacing a few steps away from him like distance will fix this. Like it’ll undo it. “Don’t say anything.”
Behind me, there’s a pause. I can feel his eyes on me, heavy and searching.
“What?” Stephen’s voice is rough, confused. “Hayden….”
“I said don’t.” My voice comes out sharper this time, harsher than I meant it to.
I hear the shift immediately. The way his breathing changes and the way the confusion starts turning into something else.
But I can’t stop now.
If I slow down, if I think about this for even a second longer, I’m going to lose whatever grip I have left.
“This was a mistake,” I added quickly. “Last night….it didn’t mean anything.”
The silence that follows is deafening.
I finally turned around, and the look on his face…it hit me harder than I expected.
He is sitting up now, staring at me like he’s trying to figure out if I’m serious. Like he’s waiting for me to take it back.
I didn't. I doubled down.
“It was just the alcohol,” I continue, forcing the words out, even though something in my chest twists painfully with every sentence. “And everything that’s been going on. It got… out of hand.”
Stephen didn’t say anything right away and that almost makes it worse.
“Out of hand?” he repeats finally, his voice quieter now. Too quiet.
“Yeah.” I cross my arms, clinging to the defensive posture like armor. “That’s all it was.”
His jaw tightens slightly. “So that’s what you think that was?”
I hesitate, just for a second and that second is dangerous.
Because flashes of last night keep pushing their way into my head—the way he kissed me back, the way it didn’t feel wrong, the way I didn’t want it to stop….No. I shut it down immediately.
“Don’t do that,” I snapped. “Don’t try to make it into something it’s not.”
His brows knit together. “I’m not making it into anything. I’m just….”
“I’m not like you, Stephen.” The words come out before I can stop them and the second they land, I know I’ve crossed a line.
Something in his expression shifts.
“I’m not,” I repeat, even though my voice is tighter now, less certain. “So don’t…don’t start acting like this means something. Like it’s… normal.”
His eyes harden slightly. “Normal?”
“Yeah,” I say, pushing forward because I don’t know how to stop. “I’m not about to turn into some….”
I cut myself off for half a second. I shouldn’t say it. I know I shouldn’t say it but the fear is louder than the logic.
“I’m not about to turn into some gay fag like you, alright?” The words come out sharp, ugly, laced with everything I don’t understand about myself right now. “This isn’t me. It’s not happening.”
The room goes completely still.
For a second, I think I might’ve imagined the way his face changes but I didn’t.
It’s subtle at first, just a flicker.
Then it settles into something colder and closed off. “Wow,” he says quietly.
That’s it. Just one word and somehow, that hits worse than if he’d yelled.
I clench my jaw, forcing myself to hold his gaze even though something in my chest feels like it’s cracking under the weight of it.
“Stephen…”
“Don’t.” His voice is calm, but there’s an edge to it now. “Don’t backtrack.”
“I’m not….”
“You are,” he cuts in, shaking his head slightly as he swings his legs off the bed. “Or you will. Give it a second.”
He stood up, grabbing his shirt from the floor and pulling it on like none of this matters.
Like I don’t matter and that…That pisses me off.
“Don’t act like you didn’t know what this was,” I snapped. “You were there too.”
He lets out a quiet, humorless laugh. “Yeah. I was.”
There’s something in his tone that makes my stomach twist.
“I just didn’t realize I was the only one actually owning it.”
“I am owning it,” I argue, even though it sounds weak, even to my own ears. “I’m saying it was a mistake.”
“No,” he says, glancing at me briefly as he runs a hand through his hair. “You’re running from it.”
“I’m not running….”
“You are,” he repeats, sharper this time. “And that’s fine, Hayden. Really. Do whatever you need to do to make yourself feel better.”
A second passed, then he added, quieter, “Just don’t drag me down with you.”
That… lands harder than anything else he’s said.
Because for a second, just a second, it makes me feel like the bad guy here and I’m the one who screwed this up and I hate that.
“I’m not dragging you into anything,” I say defensively. “You’re the one who….”
“Yeah,” he interrupts again, nodding slightly. “I’m the one who kissed you back. Who didn’t pretend it was nothing.” His eyes meet mine then, steady and unreadable. “But I’m also the one who’s not going to beg you to admit it mattered.”Something in my chest tightens painfully. “Because clearly,” he continues, his voice flattening, “it doesn’t. Not to you.”
I open my mouth to respond or to argue. To say something, anything, that doesn’t make this feel like it’s slipping out of my control but nothing comes out.
And that’s all the answer he needs.
“Got it,” he murmurs.
He grabs his phone, shoves it into his pocket, and heads for the door.
“Stephen…”
He pauses for half a second, his hand on the handle but he doesn’t turn around.
“I won’t make it weird for you,” he says quietly. “You don’t have to worry about that.”
Then, after a brief pause, he adds, “I’ll just stay out of your way.”
The door opens and closes and just like that…..He’s gone.