Zayn held her through the fading pulse of her tears, the jacuzzi water swirling softly around them, when at last he found the courage—or maybe the desperation—to speak.
His voice came low, thick, strangled, as if the words had claws.
“Lana…”
He swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. I’m so goddamn sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
But Lena cut him off before he could finish, her voice raw and hoarse but steady enough to carry the truth she couldn’t avoid.
“You didn’t force yourself on me.”
Zayn went utterly still behind her. The tension in his muscles froze like stone.
She lifted her head slightly, her cheek brushing his shoulder as she kept speaking, even though her voice trembled with each word.
“We were both responsible for what happened. I pushed you… you pushed back… and everything just… explod
