Resisting the Player -- [Completed - Unedited]

Chapter 44: I'm Sorry

Does anybody know the last time I updated? I think it was like last Wednesday but I'm not sure.

Shout out to SarcasmQueen1583 for coming up with the main idea for this chapter. Thank you! (It's actually more in the next chapter, but this is leading up to that.)

There's only like maybe less than five chapters left in the story, so I'm feeling a little emotional right now, don't mind me.

Note: I may or may not have cried the tiniest bit as I was writing the second part of this chapter. Please don't kill me.

*Note*: I was originally going to make this all one chapter but then it turned out it was close to like 6000 words, so I split it into two. Also, we might be going past the predetermined 50 chapters; I think I'm dragging things out because I don't want to let this story go :/

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It's weird.

It's weird because we're not dating.

It's been, what, two weeks since feelings were confessed, and are we dating?

Nope.

He hasn't asked me. He hasn't even brought it up.

Does that mean I'm supposed to ask?

Or does he just not want to date me?

Was the whole love thing a lie?

I should not be pondering this at three in the morning, but I can't help it; I was made to overthink everything.

The light from my TV bathes my face in color as I stare at the screen, not really absorbing anything.

My head immediately snaps to the side to face my balcony doors—with the curtains open—as my heart sings in my chest, thumping away.

Aaron's smiling face, mostly covered in shadows, causes me to grin, and I stand up and walk over to the doors to let him in.

The doctor was a little hesitant at first, but he took my cast off and gave me a brace instead. I still can't move like I want to, but at least I don't have to use those fucking crutches.

As soon as the door opens, I'm wrapped up in Aaron's arms as he, like always, buries his face in my neck, pulling air into his lungs which causes a shiver to roll down my spine.

"Why are you up?" I ask him, my voice coming out as a whisper.

His only reply is a, "Couldn't sleep," and nothing else, but I let it go because he's putting his hands on my waist and is lifting me up.

My legs wrap around his waist as he turns to close my balcony doors, my head on his shoulder and facing inwards towards his neck.

He walks us over to my bed, moving my covers and carefully placing me under them, climbing in next to me when I'm settled.

Everything's like it always is when he sleeps with me like this.

Except he's not pulling me into his arms.