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I always dream of Easton.
My phone rings in my pocket and snaps me out of my thoughts. Alec still stands there, expecting an answer he's never going to get. Without even looking at who's calling, I press ignore and shove it back in my pocket.
“Well, at least it's not just me you're avoiding,” he says.
I sigh and look anywhere but back at him. “I'm sorry.”
“Don't be, but you know I'm here for whatever you need, right?”
“I do.”
He smiles sadly at me and nods before going back to his car. I don't wait around for him to drive away. Instead, I rush inside and up the stairs. Once the door shuts behind me, I press my back against it and let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.
Pulling the box out of my purse, I stare down at it with both fear and apprehension.
Ready or not, here it comes.
AFTER I ENDED THINGSwith Easton, he still made little moves that showed he still cared. Text messages in an attempt to talk to me. Staring at me from across the courtyard. Even calling Amelia when he knew she was with me. It was the way I knew he was still there, but since the incident with Alec a week ago, he hasn't even looked my direction.
He's acting like he's fine, but I'm not buying it. I see Zayn watching him, like he's a ticking time bomb, ready to explode at any given moment and take out everyone around him at the same time. There have been times I've considered trying to help, but I always stop myself.
He wants nothing to do with me anymore.
And that sucks, because things are getting really complicated.
I pull up to Casa Bronsyn-Donovan, and Amelia climbs in.
“Why haven't you been answering your damn phone?” she chastises.
I wince. “Sorry. I haven't been feeling well lately.”
“Well, I have news! Big news!”
Looking at her expectantly, I wait for her to tell me but she stays quiet. “Well, spit it out then.”
She shakes her head. “Nope. We're already on our way into work. May as well wait until we're with Tye, too.”
My eyes roll practically into the back of my head. “Fine, but I have news, too.”
Telling Amelia is something that scares me more than telling Easton. At least Easton is levelheaded enough not to have a coronary about it. Amelia, however, might actually slit my throat if I tell anyone before her—her brother included.
“Oh! Tell me!” she says excitedly.
The words are on the tip of my tongue, ready to blurt out and throw my secret into the open air. But it's better if I don't have to repeat the words any more than I already have to. And it's probably better to have Tye there when I tell Amelia anyway.
“I'll tell you and Tye together.”
The whole ride to work, my best friend acts like a five-year-old on pixie sticks. She cannot sit still, no matter how hard she tries, and the little smirk she's sporting does nothing for my tolerance of her.
“Can you stop bouncing?” I snap, my patience thin. “Sorry, you're just shaking the whole car.”
She stops and chuckles. “I'm surprised this hunk of junk is still moving.”
“Shh! She'll hear you!”
My 2005 Honda Civic is well beyond its lifetime, with almost 200,000 miles on it, and recently it’s been giving me some trouble. I'm sure it's only a matter of time before the thing completely craps out on me and leaves me wheel-less.
I pull into the parking lot and hop out, cringing as the door squeaks when I close it. Amelia snickers under her breath and all but skips toward the door. It's like she's floating on a whole damn cloud right now.
