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To keep her safe.
To protect her.
To give her everything she deserves.
“Don't do this.” Her voice is shaky as she pleads against what we both know is coming.
I look up at her and instantly wish I hadn't as I watch a tear slide down her cheek. “I'm so sorry. Easton's right. This is wrong.”
“Zayn.”
Pulling my gaze away, I can't handle watching as she crumbles. “I can't be with you anymore. I'm sorry.”
She sits there for a second like she's waiting for something before finally getting up and running out of her room. I don't miss the sob that leaves her mouth as she rushes down the hallway and into her room.
Every part of me wants to go comfort her. To apologize and take back every word that just left my mouth. But I can't. This is what's best for her. The choices I've made have made this my life, and she's worked too hard to be destroyed by my mess.
I may be in love with her, but I'm nothing but her brother's scumbag friend. No matter how hard I try to rewrite our fate, the truth is that's all I was ever meant to be.
The world moves around me, but I don't seem to acknowledge any of it. Nothing feels right anymore. Not my coffee in the mornings. Not my long walks to school. Not cheer. I even consider skipping practice, which could get me thrown off the team. Maybe that would be for the best. Who wants a cheerleader who doesn't feel very cheery anymore?
I think what hurts the most is that I had it—everything I used to picture when he would come over all those years ago. Everything I imagined growing up. The relationship of my dreams; it was mine. He was mine. Only to have it ripped right out of my grasp.
The first time hurt, after we hooked up at that party and he took it back like it was no big deal. I wanted to scream, to cry, to punch something. It was frustrating, but it was nothing like this. This time is different, because I'm not angry. I'm not aggravated or ready to kick someone's ass.
I'm simply...broken.
CHEER PRACTICE ISN'T NEARLY as fun as it used to be, but when I mentioned quitting, Kennedy threatened to chop off all my hair in my sleep. Apparently, quitting cheerleading is the equivalent of having a mental breakdown, and if I'm going to have a total mental crisis, I may as well do it looking like Britney from 2008. I don't necessarily agree with a single word of it, but I wouldn't put it past Kennedy, so I reluctantly decided to stay on the team.
“Are you going to work tonight?” she asks as we head out of the gym.
I shake my head. “I asked Paul not to put me on the schedule this week.”
Kennedy sighs. “Maybe you should work. It would give you something to take your mind off things.”
“I doubt it.”
“Well, it's at least better than sitting at home,” she says. “That has to be torture all in itself.”
It is. Having to live with Zayn and not be able to touch him like I used to, or share those secret looks when no one is looking, it sucks. But as if I like the pain, there is nowhere I'd rather be but home.
Easton comes up and pulls Kennedy into his arms. She smiles happily against him but as I clear my throat, she apologizes and makes him let go.
“Do you want me to fight him?” she suggests. “Because I will. He can't be all that tough.”
My brother rolls his eyes. “You're still stuck on this? That's a little pathetic, don't you think?”
Kennedy winces, like she can feel the way his words strike a nerve, and my eyes narrow on him. “Excuse me?”
“What? It's been a week, Amelia. Get over it.”
I whirl on him. “Says the fucking guy who cried over Tessa for months until he damn near killed himself. And you want to talk fucking pathetic? You threw a temper tantrum like a child because you couldn't handle the fact that your little sister was with your best friend.” I cross my arms over my chest. “If anyone is pathetic here, it's you. What we had was amazing until you came in and fucking ruined it.”
Easton watches me with wide eyes as I shake my head and walk away.
“Amelia,” Kennedy calls sadly.
I glance back at her. “I love you, but call me when he isn't around.”
