Page 82 of The Addict

I took a bite of my sandwich and ushered her on, happy that I finally succeeded in getting her to forget about my night from hell.

“I met the hottest guy.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “And I mean the hottest guy in the world.”

I shrugged. “Where?”

“Here. Isn’t that cool? But he hasn’t been here for a couple of days so maybe he’s out of town or something. He like, just got here though.”

“Well, what’s his name?” I questioned with slight annoyance, reaching for my tea.

Chelsea giggled. “That’s the cool part!” She leaned in as if this was the greatest secret of all time. “He’s a Hansen.”

I choked, sweet tea nearly becoming the first two words of my epitaph. “Excuse me?”

“Oh my God, Delane, literally wipe your mouth and get a hold of yourself. Anyway! There’s a member of the Hansen family, going to our college! Can you believe it?” Chelsea squealed. “And I’m going to be the first to get in his pants.”

“Does he have a name?” I was practically yelling by now, already on my feet.

Don’t say it, don’t say it.

It could be ANY other name in the world.

“His name is Noah. Isn’t that hot?”

I felt faint.

She said it.

NOAH

“What’s your name?” I asked, kicking up some dust with my foot.

I was seven.

Life as I knew it was almost perfect.

“Silas Thorne. I’m not supposed to talk to you.” He spoke very meekly for someone who was four years older than me.

“Well, why not? We can’t be friends?” I questioned, wondering why this kid wanted nothing to do with me.

“You’re a Hansen. I’m a Thorne. We’re technically rivals.” On the word, “rivals”, Silas held more determination in his voice, placing his hands on his hips and puffing his chest.

“Just go home,” he ordered me.

I put my hands in my jean pockets nervously. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

“I’m lost...”

Silas sighed. “Ugh. Great.”

His hand outstretched.

“I will walk you home.”

I laid in bed all day, as usual, recalling the events of the past. They played before my mind like a bad film. No matter how much I tried to push them away, they always seemed to claw back into my thoughts, torturing me.

I hated remembering my childhood.