Page 11 of What’s Left of Us

“Damn.” I let out an impressed whistle. “You had a great night.”

“I can’t remember the last time I drank that much,” she admits.

That’s saying something, coming from Hayden. When I arrived in Aberlena, I’d only drank a few times. She, on the other hand, was already a professional at partying. She knew her limits and the types of alcohol she liked. She knew how to play beer pong and could win a game of pool with her eyes closed.

For her to be hungover means she had at least ten drinks. If I did that, I would die.

“I’m going to make you one.” I flip my grilled cheese before rummaging through our cabinet. The kitchen is too small to have any real organization. As it is, our cold meds are mixed with plastic lunch bags and our dismal supply of seasoning (salt, pepper, oregano, and a long-expired cayenne pepper). Snatching a bottle of iBuprofen, I shake a few into my palm. “Take these first.”

“Four,” she says when I offer two. I raise my eyebrow but add a couple more. She takes the pills in one swallow, without so much as a sip of water.

“Gross, Hayden.” I slide my mixed Red Bull drink across the counter. “At least wash it down.”

She hums happily and takes a long chug. I’ve never liked coffee, and I can’t stand the taste of straight Red Bull. Add in blackberry and blue raspberry flavoring though, and I could live off this alone. I take a sip as I turn back to the stove.

I’m swallowing when Hayden proclaims, “I found your future husband.”

I swear, she did it on purpose. She wanted me to choke, and I do. I cough as I face her again, and it takes several seconds before I can breathe normally. Hayden grins at me all the while.

“Are you trying to kill me?” I ask once I’ve regained my breath.

“Get your grilled cheese.” She nods toward the stove, and I startle at the tiny wisp of smoke curling from the pan. I flip the sandwich onto a plate and cut it in half. Diagonally, because I’m not psychotic. I hand Hayden half and keep the other for myself.

Hayden moans as she takes a bite, letting the cheese stretch. “Oh my god. This is the best grilled cheese I’ve had in my entire life.”

“I know.” I hop onto the counter and take a bite. “So. You met my future husband.”

I do my best to act nonchalant, but I’m sure it doesn’t work. It’s clear rebounds aren’t going to help me get over Atlas…but someone with genuine potential? Hope trails up my spine, and I find myself pathetically desperate for details. Unfortunately, Hayden has lost the plot. She has her eyes closed and her head tipped back, smiling softly as she chews an oversized bite.

“Focus, Hayden.” I tear off a piece of bread and chuck it at her. “Or I’ll take away your sandwich.”

She growls—literally growls—at me. Luckily, it’s enough of a threat she pauses before taking her next bite.

“He’s perfect. Tall. Handsome. Kind.” She takes another bite. “There are so many handsome men, but kind men? It’s rare. I talked to him for, like, five minutes, and I just knew. It was love at first sight.”

“But not for you?”

When Hayden’s eyes open, they’re clouded with darkness.

“You know I don’t do that.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know why. You’ve never⁠—”

Hayden cuts me off with the sharp wave of her hand. Few things bring this reaction out of her. Typically, no topic is too embarrassing or shameful or weird to discuss. She’ll openly talk about painful diarrhea and lousy sex and the fact she cheated on tests all through high school. But a few things—like love and her insomnia—are off the table.

I press my lips together. Part of me wonders if I should push Hayden for more, to encourage her to trust me the way I’ve learned to trust her. But I don’t. I can’t. Sometimes, it’s better not to know the darkest parts of people. What you don’t know can’t be used against them.

“Anyway, he’s great. I don’t know much about him, but he’s single. And he’s got the best green eyes. Sexiest I’ve ever seen, I swear.” Hayden finishes off her sandwich and grins at me. “He’s one of the sexiest men I’ve ever seen, period.”

“Fine,” I let out a heavy exhale, like the thought of meeting an attractive man is excruciating. “You can introduce me to my future husband. If we end up getting married, you have to be my maid of honor though.”

“Perfect! I’ll set it up.” Hayden hops off the counter and throws her uneaten crust into the trash. “His name is Atlas. I didn’t catch his last name, but I’ll figure it out. Then we can stalk his socials, and if you agree⁠—”

“Atlas?” I interrupt. I’ve only met one Atlas in my life, but there’s no way this is my Atlas, right? He’s at the University of Montana. He’s two states away from me and this little seaside town, so there’s no way he’s here.

“I know. It’s a little weird, but I kind of like it.” Hayden shrugs as she heads for her bedroom. “You will too once you see how hot he is.”

I can’t bring myself to respond, but Hayden doesn’t notice. She disappears into her bedroom, and I remain in the kitchen, spiraling until I finally, finally convince myself there’s no way Atlas Blake is here.