Beneath The Mask
The next punch lands, and Ghost groans, the sound tearing through me.
“Okay!” I shout, the word bursting out of me like a dam breaking. He looks at me, waiting, his masked face tilted as if daring me to continue. God, just say it. What the fuck is wrong with me? I can’t let Ghost keep getting hurt, but the thought of saying it—of making it real—it terrifies me.
“I guess you’re not ready,” he says, a cruel smirk evident in his tone.
“Fine! Yes!” The words tumble out in a rush, raw and desperate. “Okay, yes, I like him. There, I fucking said it! Now stop!"
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