“Please. Can we please fucking move past this? Talk?”

“You want to fucking talk?” He says the word like it’s poison dripping from his tongue. “Fuck you, Stone! Fuck you for being a goddamn coward. Fuck you for making me fall for you all those fucking years ago, when you never had any intention of sticking around. And fuck you for leaving without so much as a goodbye. I fucking hate you so much. I hope you’re fucking happy with yourself. Proud you had the ability to hurt me as much as you did. You’ll never get that chance again. Fuck y—”

I don’t think, just act. My body crowds him, slamming his back against the elevator wall as my lips crash down on his in a whirl of mixed emotions and what could’ve been. His body freezes for a moment before his hands fly up, fisting the lapels of my jacket, and hauling me to the other side of the elevator. My back hits with a hard thud, the breath knocked right out of me, as a growl tears from his lips.

His mouth descends on mine, and as his tongue thrusts into my mouth, I can feel the years of hurt, anger, and confusion poured into this kiss. His tongue strokes over mine and I shudder against him. My body finally catches up to what’s happening, and my hands fly up to cup the back of his head, holding him close as I too pour years of emotion into this moment.

Years of torturous yearning and longing.

Years of needing him but not knowing how to get back to him.

Years of replaying each and every moment we spent together. Every touch, every word shared, and knowing I will probably never have that again. I’ll probably never know what it feels like to have him underneath me, writhing and moaning in ecstasy again. Never get to live out the dream of our future—the dream that kept me going for so long. The dream that helped open my eyes.

The elevator dings, and as the doors glide open, he jumps back from me. His fingers come up to his glistening, swollen lips, his brows scrunch together, and as he shakes his head, he storms out of the elevator.

I follow after him, surprised to see him not going toward the exit, but instead, an empty room. The lights are off, but the moonlight outside is shining through the large windows, illuminating his silhouette. His shoulders are heaving, and his head is hung low. Even with his back to me, I can feel the internal turmoil pouring out of him.