Page 33 of When We Were Young

I shoot a quick glance in Holden’s direction, and sure enough, he’s still watching.

He probably saw.

I find the restroom and wait in line, and when I step out, I realize I’m not far from the kitchen door that leads onto the back porch. So, I decide to head outside for cleaner air.

It’s a nice night, so there’s plenty going on out here, too. It’s basically a replica of the inside, except with people crowded around a firepit.

I walk around to the side of the porch, wanting a place where I can quiet my thoughts.

When I find a secluded spot, I lean back against the brick wall and close my eyes. I focus on taking slow, deep breaths.

“Lizette.”

My eyes fly open.

I know that voice.

God, I’ve missed that voice.

“You can’t be here,” I warn him.

“Why not?” he asks. “It’s communal property.”

“I mean with me.”

He doesn’t answer right away. Even in the darkness, I can tell he’s glaring at me.

“You kissed him.” There’s an accusation in his tone. “You’re the last person I kissed, and I wanted to keep it that way. But I’m clearly not the last person you kissed, am I? What’s going on?”

“Nothing, Holden. We just, us...it wasn’t real. It was two kids hanging out in the library, not real life.”

“Because you wouldn’t let it be. Every time I asked you to do something outside those damn library doors, you got weird. Were you already dating him?”

“What? No. How dare you?” My tone betrays my shock and disgust.

“Then why are you with him?”

I look away. “Because I care about him.” The lie rolls off my tongue far too easily.

“So, you and I had what we had. We were starting something, and suddenly, you have feelings for this other guy?”

“He’s my ex. The feelings”—I swallow past the lump in my throat—”the feelings never went away. They were always there. We talked things through, and I didn’t want to throw away years of a relationship.”

He stares at me for an awkwardly long moment. Maybe it’s only seconds. It doesn’t matter. The look on his face sears into both my heart and my memory.

“I don’t believe you.”

My chest tightens.

“I don’t believe you have feelings for him. I don’t believe that you don’t care about me. Please give us a chance to talk this through so I know what I did.”

My heart aches hearing him think this is somehow his fault. “You didn’t do anything. I just... I care about him.”

“The same way you cared about me?” His response comes immediately.

“Don’t. I’m not answering that.”

“Lizette. This is a mistake. I know I didn’t misread what was happening between us. Tell me what I need to do to fix it.”