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He has his back against the furthest wall of the heated garage as he throws a small ball against the opposite wall, catching it over and over. There must be over five luxury cars parked in here, but I pay them no mind, gawking at my pen pal.
The stranger I spilled my darkest secrets to.
The boy I came so close to falling in love with.
I almost fell for a boy who still wants his ex. What kind of fool does that make me? I’m itching to scream in his face. Tell him what a huge disappointment he turned out to be. Tell him I wish he’d been the Zac I imagined in my head.
But I can’t.
He still has no idea who I really am.
Xavier looks up at me through thick eyelashes. He seems sad—no, he seems miserable. He doesn’t acknowledge me in the slightest, throwing the ball against the wall once more and catching it effortlessly.
I drum up an excuse. “Sorry, I was just… looking for some quiet. I’ll go.”
I spin on my heels, but I’ve barely opened the door an inch before he says, “You don’t have to.”
My hand still clutching the knob, I cast a dubious glance in his direction.
“Got plenty of quiet to go around.” He gestures to the empty garage. I should go and never look back. Bandage up my bruised ego and walk the hell away, but against all expectations, I shut the door and ask him a very dangerous question.
“Are you… okay?”
Why is it dangerous?
Because it means I still care.
“Peachy.” He releases a weak scoff.
It’s his eyes.
Those sad, tug-at-your-heartstrings puppy eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” He picks up the bottle of Fireball at his feet, swipes a huge sip, and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m just a fucking moron, that’s all.”
I hesitantly cut across the garage to his side.
“Care to elaborate?”
“Sure. Once upon a time, I royally fucked up the only good thing in my life. The end.” He can’t even muster a smile at his own joke. That’s how I know something is seriously wrong.
“I assume we’re talking about a girl here?”
“Not just any girl, Harper.” He pitches the ball harder against the wall as if to channel his frustration. “The girl.”
Brie?
Lacey?
Who fucking knows at this point?
“I’m sorry” is all I can think to say.
“Meh. Don’t be.” Xavier gives an unconvincing shrug before dragging another sip of alcohol. “It was always going to end this way. Any other story I fed myself was a load of shit.”
I wish I had a sensible excuse to justify what I do next, but I don’t. All I have is this insufferable need to give him the benefit of the doubt. I plop down by his side on the concrete floor.
