No Hard Feelings

fifteen

F I F T E E N

DEXTER'S HEART HAD been broken many times before.

It never hurt as much as it did when Hadley showed up at his doorstep that one Friday night, her eyes holding tears that made him want to hide her from the big bad world outside. Hadley rarely cried, and it broke his heart to see her unravel like that.

Hadley always kept her emotions in check and in the rare times that she didn't, Dexter always found himself struggling. He was clueless. He had no idea how to comfort her. He had no idea how to let her know that things will be all right. He had no idea how he could possibly stand there and see her cry without breaking down himself.

But he ushered her into his house that night and let her cry. He listened as she talked about this guy who wasn't him. A guy who couldn't see how lucky he was. A guy who wouldn't break had he seen Hadley like this. A guy who wasn't worth the tears she was shedding.

Dexter wanted to kill him.

He let her talk, offering what little comfort he could, wrapping strong arms around her to remind her that he was there, right there, and he was never going to go away.

Tell you what, he told her, forget about him. Let's drink until we forget about that fucking asshole, all right? And okay, she said, all right. I'd like that. So they did. They drank, and drank, and drank. They drank until Hadley was so drunk she was cursing Josh's name, shouting words he never thought would ever slip out her mouth.

"Fuck him," Dexter said. "Really. He's an asshole. And I bet he has a tiny dick anyway."

Hadley giggled and grabbed the bottle of vodka from him. "Microscopic."

"See?" Dexter gave her a smile. His thoughts were fuzzy and the world was spinning, but she was crystal clear. She was always crystal clear. "You can do so much better."

She nodded, but began to sway forward that Dexter had to pull her back. "So much better," she agreed, almost completely unaware of how unsteady she was. "So, so, so much better."

"That's what I've been telling you."

Hadley turned her head to him. Her smile slowly disappeared. A solemn expression settled on her face and Dexter found himself mirroring it. She reached up, and Dexter held his breath as she began to trace the lines of his face with her thumb.

When she spoke, her voice was just above a murmur. "Why did I ever break up with you?"

Her touch was intoxicating and Dexter couldn't help but lean into her hand. "You tell me."

She was tracing patterns he couldn't see, searing warmth into his skin, writing runes to a spell that he couldn't snap out of. He closed his eyes and sidled closer and when her thumb ran across his lips, he felt his heart jump to his throat. His eyes snapped open to find her wistful eyes on his.

"Hadley," he breathed out, his hand closing around her wrist.

She said nothing. She kept her eyes on his and Dexter felt something in his chest stir. He didn't dare move, afraid he'd do something he'd regret. He wanted to pull away.

He couldn't.

Instead, he waited for her to move away. Like she always did. Like he was sure she would. But she surprised him by shifting closer. She swayed, and Dexter was afraid she'd fall so he reached out to steady her. Or maybe he was just looking for an excuse to hold her close.

Warning signs were going off in his head, telling him to stop before things get out of hand. She was looking at him with more honesty than he'd ever seen painted on her face. Dexter was frozen. He wanted to scramble away from his thoughts. Crawl, if he'd have to.