Page 16 of What’s Left of Us

“I…” She trails off, turning away from Atlas. She looks at my outstretched palm, then shakes her head abruptly. “I have to go.”

“Okay we can⁠—”

“No, no. Just me.”

Before I say another word, she takes off, leaving me with the boy I can’t seem to leave behind.

“Hayden!” I scream. My lungs hurt. I’m too out of shape for this. I used to play tennis in high school, but it’s been a couple years and I can’t remember the last time I ran this far. Actually, I guess I do. I ran from Phoebe’s wedding, and I don’t miss the irony that I’m running from Atlas for the second time in a month.

Unlike me, Hayden takes care of herself. She eats healthy (for the most part) and exercises regularly (as in, once a day, regularly). Even drunk and high out of her mind, she’s managed to keep a block or more of distance between us.

“God, stop running!” Forget being out of shape, I’m too drunk for this. I carry my shoes in one hand and I’m using the other to steady myself as I run. The world shifts chaotically around me. “I’m going to trip and fall…and then I’ll die…and you’ll never…forgive…yourself…”

I slow my steps, clutching at my side.

“We’ll have to talk at the house anyway!” I lean forward and suck in deep breaths. “You should just⁠—”

“Fucking shit!”

I look up from the sidewalk to see Hayden sprawled across the pavement. She’s a block ahead of me, but she’s now belly-flopped on the asphalt. I start jogging again, one hand on my side. By the time I reach her, she’s on her ass, inspecting her bloodied knee.

“Jesus.” I sway as I sit down beside her, nearly missing the curb. “Are you okay?”

Hayden doesn’t answer me. Instead she pokes at her hairline, then pulls back to inspect her fingers.

“It’s not bleeding.” I lean my elbows on my knees, breathing hard. I kick the side of her foot. “What the hell was that about?”

She huffs out a breath, but she doesn’t answer. She just glares up at the sky, her eyes becoming glossier with each blink.

“Is this because I lied about Atlas’s name?” I follow her gaze up to the stars. “It’s kind of a long story. I would’ve told you earlier, but I didn’t think it was a big deal. I mean, really, it’s not a big deal⁠—”

“He’s in love with you.” She looks at me, eyes hardening. “You failed to mention that in all your stories.”

“He’s not in love with me.” I let out a slow breath. “Even if he was, it wouldn’t matter. What he did…I could never forgive him.”

Something flashes across her expression, gone too quickly for me to make sense of it. She flattens her lips, eyes returning to the sky.

“You never told me what happened between you two. Not really.” Hayden unstraps her heels as she talks.

“I forgot you were wearing those.” I nod toward her dangerously high stilettos. “I’m impressed you made it as far as you did.”

“I’m lucky I didn’t break an ankle. Webber would kill me, especially if she found out I was high. I’m not supposed to smoke during the season.” Hayden tosses the shoes into the grass beside her. She rubs one ankle, then the other. Then she flops onto her back, spreading her arms out on either side of her. “Is the subject change your way of saying you don’t want to talk about it?”

“What happened with Altas is complicated,” I say slowly. When I lay in the spot beside Hayden, the grass is prickly and wet—the sprinklers must have gone off. I search the sky for constellations, but it all looks like a mess of pinprick lights to me. “Most of the time, I like to pretend it didn’t happen.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything.” Hayden’s voice softens. “I just assumed he was a complete dick who broke your heart. Cheated on you or mistreated you, and I guess maybe he did, but that wasn’t the vibe I got.”

“You’re too perceptive.” I purse my lips. “He didn’t do anything like that, but he did break my heart. Just to be clear.”

“For what it’s worth, he regrets it. I could tell.”

“No, he doesn’t.” I close my eyes. “That was one of the things he said at his sister’s wedding. He’s not sorry. He doesn’t care.”

Hayden doesn’t respond to that. She only sighs again, and for several minutes, we lie in the quiet. Somewhere nearby, people are laughing. Two streets down, cars zip along Main Street. If I strain my ears hard enough, I think I can hear the thrumming base from Derek’s house.

Eventually, Hayden sits up. Her unscathed knee brushes against mine, and she taps my elbow, as if urging me to get up. I don’t. I spread my arms out, just as she had.

“I don’t know why he’s here.” My voice is a pathetic whisper. “He’s supposed to be in Montana.”