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I shouldn’t be wondering why life past him looks like a sparser thing. There are people you meet who you know will matter. And then there are people who you meet and think won’t.
Liam definitely fell into the second category.
But what I never considered was that he might not just matter—that he might mattermost. Might become one of those people it’s difficult to picture life without.
I glance over to see Liam adjusting his trunks. “I should, huh?”
It takes me a minute—to remember what I said. “Yeah. You should.” I pause. “We’re in Alleghany, remember?”
“Hard to fucking forget.”
“We can’t,” I tell him. “Forget.”
“Yeah. I guess not.” He scoffs, like he’s really saying the opposite. Like he thought wecould.
“You knew what this was,” I say, softly. “We both knew it couldn’t go anywhere—”
“Yeah, yeah. I know.”
“Good—um, good luck with your season. With football, you know.”
Liam scoffs and rubs his jaw. He looks at the wall of my paintings for seconds that stretch to at least a minute. I grow increasingly uncomfortable the longer he stares. Art is personal for me. The only people who had seen them were the elderly students in my class I worked in front of—until him.
“I can’t decide which is worse—that I can never win when it comes to this rivalry or that I’m worried I somehow let it because I don’t know what it’s like, getting something I want,for me.”
I try to swallow the lump forming in my throat, but it refuses to budge. “I wish things were different,” I whisper.
“When was the last time a wish came true just because you wished it?”
“Liam…”
He shakes his head and pulls his car keys out of his pocket, spinning them around one finger in brisk circles. “I need to go. Are you staying?”
“Yeah. I’m staying.”
“Okay. Have fun tonight.”
At first, I think he’s referring to me spending more time in this closet. Then I realize he’s talking about the party at Chris’s I taunted him with earlier. My annoyance spikes in response to the ire in his tone. “I will.”
“Bye, Natalie.”
“Bye, Liam.”
The keys stop spinning. Liam starts moving. Out of the closet and out of sight. Out of my life.
I wait a minute, then walk out of the closet and over to the farthest wall of the room, lined with windows. Liam emerges a few seconds later, striding across the parking lot, climbing into his car, and driving away. I watch the red of his taillights until they totally disappear, then turn back to the array of easels.
I set up a blank canvas, and I start to paint.
CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE
LIAM
I’m in a bad mood. I have been all week—a week that was supposed to be a last hurrah. A celebration of the end of summer.
Instead, I decide it’s true—miserydoeslove company. I’m surrounded by laughing, drunk friends, and I feel like sprinting until I can’t stand. I need some distraction from the shit inside my head, and watching Matt and Sam play beer pong isn’t cutting it.
My knee bounces, something prickly and persistent wiggling its way under my skin.
