Page 47 of People Like Us

“You didn’t text me back today,” I shouted, perhaps a bit too loud.

“Are you drunk?” he said in a whisper that sounded angry.

I shook my head dramatically, loving the feel of my hair falling over my face. “Let me in,” I whisper-shouted.

He shut the window. I stood there for what felt like an eternity before I heard the whirl of the garage door opening. When I stepped around the corner, August was there, the outline of him dark and looming inside the open space.

“Did you drive?” His whole body was tight with irritation..

“No,” I said, pointing across the street. He leaned out to peer at the house all lit up like Christmas across the street. He rolled his eyes though his shoulders relaxed before he wrapped gentle fingers around my wrist.

August led me up the steps to his room, and even the dim lamplight was harsh against my eyes. He knelt instantly and lifted my long skirt to undo the clasp of my heel. His fingertips brushing against my ankle sent a wave of electric heat up my leg.

“Stop,” I breathed, stepping away from him.

He looked up at me, exasperated. I lifted my foot and undid the strap myself. When I had both shoes off, he took them from me slowly, placing them by the door.

He stayed there, kneeling in front of me like he was waiting on me to knight him. His green irises barely visible with the size of his pupils drinking me in. His throat worked and I couldn’t tell if it was in impatience or desire. I didn’t trust myself in that position, my fingers were desperate to rake themselves through his dark curls, so I lowered myself next to him instead.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“For what?”

My chest tightened with the amount of apathy in his voice.

I searched my mind, unsure where to start. I might have said as much out loud because August said, “Start with Penelope.”

“I didn’t know Emily was going to do that,” I blurted desperately.

“But you knew they’d do something,” he pressed.

“Not today. I didn’t even know she worked there when I went in. They didn’t tell me anything, August, I swear,” I pleaded.

He thought it over, then nodded. “Is there something else?” he asked wearily.

“I was honest with someone else.” I thought I might throw up.

His brow puckered as he searched my eyes. “You’re really stoned, huh?”

I shook my head. “I only took one hit.”

“You’re allowed to be honest with other people, Lola.” The slight upturn at the corner of his mouth sent a dagger through my chest, and heat everywhere else.

I shook my head again, wishing I had the right vocabulary to explain the guilty feeling in the pit of my stomach—not guilty for telling Andy’s best friend that I didn’t love him, but guilt for being vulnerable with anyone but August.

“No, I said something I shouldn’t have.” My breath was growing short.

August put a hand on my shoulder, the touch so light it barely registered. “What did you say? To whom?”

“Jack asked me if I still love Andy, and I told him I didn’t know,” I admitted.

August gave me a sad smile, tiny lines forming at the corners of his eyes. “Why do you think you said that?”

“Because it sounded better than no, and I’m really stoned.”

August chuckled as his fingers moved slowly up my shoulder, and into my hair. “Do you think Jack will tell him?”

I thought about it for a second, then said, “No.”