Page 35 of When We Were Young

I know I’m here with another guy. But I tried my hardest not to throw the physical in his face. Maybe I was wrong about him. Maybe when he told me about his past, he wasn’t completely honest.

For the first five minutes since they disappeared behind the door to what I assume is his room, I kept telling myself it was nothing and maybe he was just showing her around.

After another forty-five minutes pass, I feel like I’m moving through a fog. I know what’s probably happening up there.

I glance toward the stairs again.

This time there’s movement. The girl steps out of the room first, straightening her clothes.

My stomach twists.

A second later, Holden emerges. He pulls the door shut behind him, then leans against the railing and looks down.

How he can make eye contact with me after what he was likely doing is beyond me. So, I peek at him for only a second before turning away.

It’s loud enough in here that I have to lean close to Landon's ear.

“I’m really not feeling well. I think my period's starting.” The trusty period excuse gets me out of a surprising number of situations.

“Go lay down in my room.” That’s Landon's answer, just like that.

“I want to go home.” He ignores me. “Landon, please.”

“Why don’t you call an Uber? You’re still on my account.”

Nice.

“Okay, fine.” I order myself a ride, but on my own account.

When I get the notification that my driver is five minutes away, I glance toward Holden one last time.

He’s kissing the brunette again.

I use the opportunity to say goodbye to Landon and head for the door.

Outside, the night air is cold. I didn’t bring a coat. But I’d rather be cold than stay in there.

Besides, I need to get used to it. This is my life now.

Part Two

Present day…

Chapter Fourteen

Holden

“Sweetcheeks, back away from the coffee pot and go have a seat. I’ll brew it and bring you a cup in a few minutes.”

The corners of Ella’s mouth turn down, and the softness in her eyes looks a lot like pity.

I stare at her for a few seconds.

“I don’t understand why I can’t get it right.” I scratch my head.

I’m smart, yet Ella has tried every morning for two weeks to teach me how to make coffee that tastes like hers. Mine doesn’t.

“I used the exact number of rosemary sprigs you said, but it tastes⁠—”