“Oh, Nick.” He turned around and pushed his face into my chest. “I can’t be this guy. Can’t be like this. You deserve so much more than me, than who I’ve beco—”
“What do I deserve, O’Reilly? Don’t tell me what I deserve. I don’t give a shit about that. I know what I want. I know what it takes for me to get from point A to point B, that’s all. And I can’t get anywhere without you.”
“But listen to me.” He looked up, his face young in the moonlight. For a second, I remembered him at age twelve, that scrawny little redheaded kid I used to try to reach.
“What?”
“Don’t ever stay with me out of pity.”
Man, he could piss me off. I felt my jaw harden.
“No, promise me, Nick,” he insisted, his eyes turning almost feral.