Page 12 of Kiss Slay Replay

And he’s there. Ravi. Standing in the center arch. White button-down, slacks, his favorite bomber jacket. He bought it at the Brooklyn Flea in Industry City. With me. I was the one who found it on the rack. Handed it to him. Insisted that he try it on. Told him that he had to get it. That it was made for him.

He’s so close to me. He’s right there.

But he’s a memory. I can’t touch him. He’s gone.

He’s ordering a small black coffee. He’s asking me out. He’s asking me to marry him.

He’s standing in the kitchen watching me shake. He’s asking me if I’m serious. He’s asking me why I didn’t say anything sooner, and I’m trying to explain that I couldn’t, that I didn’t know how. He’s asking me not to leave. Don’t do this. Not now.

He’s telling me we can work it out, that he wants to fix it, but says nothing when I ask him how, what that even means. Says nothing when I tell him I think it’s too late.

He looks the same. Actually…no. No, he doesn’t. He let his hair grow out. He knows I like his hair long. When we were together, he’d shave it anyway.

I watch a manicured hand appear and stroke the back of his neck, a pretty finger wind through one of his curls.

It’s her. Pink satin dress clinging to her curves. Long, caramel-colored hair in glamorous waves. Black heels. Black ribbon choker. Black YSL bag. She’s gorgeous. Striking. Perfect glowing skin. Thick fluttering lashes. Big, pearl white smile. She looks like a fucking model.

The two of them together. Ravi with someone else. With her. Me alone, still reeling. It’s too much.

“Um, no.” My knees buckle. “I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can,” Cassie says. “I’m right here.”

“We got you,” Evan says.

“I just…need…” I can’t breathe. “…need a second.”

I pull free of my friends and take a shaky step back.

“Where are you going?”

“Just one second. Just one…one minute.”

The shiny new couple, they’re going to turn this way. They’re going to look at me. They’re going to see me, here, distraught, and it might kill me. It really might kill me.

Panicked, I dart off the path and into the woods. I know I’m acting like a lunatic, but I don’t care. I don’t stop. I run until my heels betray me and I roll my ankle.

“Shit.”

I hate running. I collapse against a tree, hyperventilating. The world warps around me. For a moment, everything is neon, wavy. Then sepia toned, still. Loud and pulsing. Eerily quiet.

What if it wasn’t too late? What if we could have worked it out? Why was I so certain then that there was no salvaging our relationship, our life together? Why am I so uncertain now?

Is it being at this wedding, surrounded by love? Flowers and vows?

Is it her? Knowing that there’s someone else, that he’s moved on?

Is it because I’m low and lonely and afraid of feeling this way forever?

My heart thud-thud-thuds, vision blurs, the ground gives underneath me—squish—the earth soft, warm, yielding, like an open mouth.

My skin prickles, and I experience the sensation of falling. That flip in my gut.

It doesn’t matter why I’m feeling how I’m feeling. There is no going back. It’s over. He’s with her. And I’m going to have to watch them together. Sit together. Eat together. Dance together. Be together. Be happy in a room full of happy people, while I’m nowhere even close.

I’m so dizzy I don’t know which way is up. There’s grass in my eyes, sky swallowing my feet. A swirling iridescence.

Am I about to pass out?