I Still Need ✓

33. I wish I didn't have a heart because the only thing it does is bleed

Floyd's eyes said the exact thing that was going through my head, as I was moving my hips forward to bury myself deep inside him. Conflicting feelings and emotions coursing through my entire body with the strong current of a river, like parting a wild sea. Yes? No? Yes. No. He moved his body up with small, silent grunts to meet my own movements, in a desperate attempt to make us both forget the only thing we didn't want to forget.

It doesn't feel right.

I leaned down to press my face against the side of his hot neck, his smell filling my nose, and he wrapped his arms around me to pull me closer, heavy breaths filling my ears, but no matter how much of him filled me, there was more than enough room left for the thoughts I'd been trying to escape for ages. Floyd and me having sex was not wrong, but nothing had ever felt more wrong. It was horrible.

Soon, Floyd's gasps turned into sniffles and I immediately moved away from him. I wiped his tears and whispered, "We shouldn't have done this."

He shook his head. "It's my fault."

"No, it's not."

"I suggested it."

"Look." I cupped his face with my hands. "There's nothing wrong with wanting to lose yourself... in me, in sex. You know I'm here for you. But if it doesn't work, it doesn't work."

He nodded and apologized.

"It's okay, Floyd."

It'd been almost three weeks.

Dylan had broken up with us in that park exactly two weeks and five days ago. Floyd had protested and tried to get Dylan to explain why, to change his mind, to keep him with us—he did everything he could—and I just stood by, absolutely dazed. The only thing he'd said was that it was better for us to be apart.

"It doesn't have anything to do with how I feel about you guys." I'd seen something flicker in his eyes with those words, gone too quickly for me to determine what it was. "It's just not a good idea for the three of us to be together."

"Does this have anything to do with your dad?" Floyd had asked.

"No."

Surely it did. He had been distant for a while, admittedly, but it was the day after he'd returned home that this had happened. It could not be a mere coincidence.

He didn't ignore us at school. Neither did we. We talked, even if it was slightly awkward. I think none of us were really ready to lose each other. It was like we didn't want to believe or accept that we had come to an end. It didn't even feel like an end. Even Dylan himself seemed reluctant. That look that said he wanted to kiss us appeared on his face so many times, but he always quickly wiped it away because he knew he couldn't do it, and that hurt more than I thought it would. He tried to hide the heartbreak with his famous jokes and charisma that had always made him so popular. It was hard to forget he was not our boyfriend anymore, because he was right there, right in front of our noses, close enough to touch.

And I kind of hated him for that. He said he wanted to leave, yet he stayed by the door, just lingering there, barely in, barely out. How were we meant to close the door if he was standing in the way? Why didn't he just walk away?

But I didn't want to close it.

"I love him, Hugo."

Clearly, Floyd didn't want to, either.

"I know," I said. Of course I did. The words had never been said out loud, but how could I not know? His eyes spoke volumes and I understood exactly what it meant, because I felt it myself. "So do I, Floyd."