Page 117 of Sweet Dandelion


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“Yeah, I guess it’s weird being back after a week.”

“You have bags under your eyes.” My gaze swings to Sasha. “Are you not sleeping?”

I rarely sleep a full night, but I did when Lachlan held me. Now sleep is even worse than usual. I barely manage an hour at a time before I’m awake worrying about something, or fighting a memory that’s clawing its way to the surface.

“Sasha,” Ansel groans, shaking his head.

“It’s okay.” I know Sasha isn’t trying to be rude. She sounds worried. “No, I haven’t been sleeping much.”

“Oh.” She frowns, flattening her lips. “What’s wrong? You want to talk about it?”

I shake my head. “No, I’m sure it’ll straighten out soon enough.”

Ansel gives me a sympathetic look. I know I should tell Sasha about my past, but I’m so afraid of letting more people in. I don’t want who I am to change in her eyes because of what happened to me.

“What are you guys doing over break?” Sasha asks around a bite of her sandwich.

“Going skiing,” Ansel answers, tilting his chair back on two legs. “Meadows?”

“Nothing planned.” I give a small shrug. It doesn’t bother me much that we won’t be doing anything. I’m relieved not to be going back to Portland. I wish Sage wouldn’t be working most of the time, but I don’t have any say in the matter. “What about you?” I look at Seth, waiting for an answer. He stares steadfastly at the table.

“I’m going to New York City,” Sasha speaks up when Seth refuses to answer. “We’re spending over a week in Manhattan and celebrating Christmas and New Year’s there.”

“That’ll be fun.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” She must feel Ansel staring at her, because she turns to him, blinking. “What?”

“Nothing, Princess.” He tries to suppress a smile.

Sasha rolls her eyes and looks across at me, giving her head a shake. Even though we haven’t talked more about it, I know she still has a crush on him, but she’s also growing irritated with his behavior.

“If you have some opinionated crap to spew, say it,” she challenges him.

Ansel arches a brow.

“What? Nothing to say?” she counters. “Your family is rich so I don’t know why any of this matters to you. Besides, my grandparents live there and we’re visiting.”

Seth looks up at the ceiling, so I do too, but I don’t find anything interesting.

“You know, Ansel, I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this, but you’re kind of a dick.”

He chortles, completely amused. “I’m not kind of a dick, I have a dick. Would you like a description?”

“In-fucking-furiating.”

“Guys,” I groan, wanting to smack them. When I glance at Seth again, to silently beg him for help, he’s gone.

Is this guy even real or is he a figment of my imagination?

Luckily, I’m saved by the bell. I wad up my trash, say goodbye to their bickering forms, and toss it before I exit into the hall. I head downstairs, walking in the direction of Mr. Taylor’s office. Before I make it to the long empty hall that will lead me to him, I stop, freezing. It’s like my feet won’t move any further. It’s silly. I have nothing to fear in seeing him. Everything he said to me before I left him was a valid point. But not seeing him for a week has left an awkward knot in my chest.

Before I know it, I’m heading away, and find myself in the last place I should be.

I sit down on the hard bleachers, staring at the indoor track.

Setting my bag down between my feet, I lean back, resting my hands on either side of my legs. If I close my eyes, I can hear the cheers from the stands. Feel the excitement buzzing through my veins and jitteriness in my legs. But when I open them, it’s nothing but an empty track again, and silence. A blatant reminder of what I’ll never have.

I sniffle and wipe a tear away before it can fall.

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