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“Well, tell me what you want to do, and I’ll add it to the plan.”
I hesitate, still gaping at him like an idiot.
Could it be that simple? Could I just…?
No. I’ve already made my plans.
God, I feel like I’m being torn in two, my heart and head yanking me in opposite directions while I just flail around in the middle, unsure of which way to go.
It feels like the internal debate goes on for a lifetime before I whisper the words past numb lips, “I can’t… I just can’t with you right now.”
Before he can gather any sort of argument to entice me further, I run off into the crowd, desperate to put some distance between us. Tears blur my vision as I push blindly past the milling students. I just need to get away from him, because if one more word passed his soft, pillowy lips, I’d have been a goner. I’m not even sure how I managed to get those final words out, because I’m pretty sure every bone in my body was urging me to go. To go on the trip with him. To give him a chance. Giveusa chance.
By the time he drags me off the dance floor later that night, I’ve got my mental walls firmly back in place and fortified with steel. I’ve spent all evening ignoring his allure and reminding myself of the bigger goals. College. A stable job. Looking after my mom.
I can’t afford to lose myself in Wilder Clearwater. He’d take everything from me and leave me with nothing. It’s not that he’d do it deliberately. Hell, he probably wouldn’t even notice he was doing it at all. I’d happily hand over every part of who I am to him, but then when the heat of our lust burnt out, I’d be left with nothing. I’d be an empty husk. A hollowed-out version of the girl I am now.
Because it would eventually come to an end. A blazing, self-destructive, take-the-world-down-with-us kind of end. We’re only eighteen, and Wilder is, well, Wilder. He’s wild and carefree, and he lives in a world where he can so beautifully be those things and not have to worry about the real-world stresses that the rest of us have to deal with.
My mom never picked herself back up. Who’s to say I would? And despite how much I want to—and I really fucking want to—I can’t risk my future for the inevitable heartbreak. So, tucking the quickly growing feelings I have for him into a lock box that I know I’ll stroke often but make myself promise I’ll never open again, I turn to face a fuming Wilder.
“I don’t get it. I thought you’d love to spend the summer traveling, seeing new places.”
“I would love that, but what made you think I wanted you to dictate the next two months of my life? I don’t need or want you making decisions for me. Did it ever cross your mind to ask me if I had any plans or if I wanted to spend the summer withyou?”
The words hurt even as I say them, but I will myself to stay strong. This is what has to happen. Wilder and I, we were never meant to be. We’re two stars passing in the night. For a while, our lights burnt bright together, but now we’re drifting away, moving in opposite directions to one another, and there’s no changing course. No going back.
“Alright, I’m sorry. I should have involved you. I thought it would be a nice surprise. That doesn’t mean you have to say no just because you’re annoyed, though.”
Fuck. He’s not making this easy, and with every passing second, my resolve weakens, my heart hammering against my chest in its desperation to break free. My voice is strained when I next speak, knowing exactly what hammer to use to drive the final nail into the coffin of our relationship.
“Wilder, I can’t.”
Before I can continue, he plows over the top of me. “You can. It’s my treat. You won’t have to pay for anything.”
“It’s got nothing to do with money. I already have plans.”
“What are they? I’d need to review my itinerary, but I’m sure we can squeeze it in.”
Gathering the last of my strength, I deliver the final blow. “No, Wilder. I’m spending the summer touring with Death on a Matchstick. They asked me a couple of weeks ago and… I agreed.”
“When? Cancel.” The sharp command snaps off his tongue. A direct order that I don’t obey.
“I emailed them back to confirm last week.”
“After our night together?”
There’s the hurt I was looking for, although I take no pleasure in causing it as I murmur a pathetic and useless, “I’m sorry,” before he storms off.
Death on a Matchstickhad played a concert for Hawk’s birthday party our senior year of high school, and well, I had an exclusive after-show with two of the band members that night. We’d kept in touch via text and emails over the following months, and when they asked me if I’d be interested in spending the summer on tour with them, I thought long and hard about it before I agreed.
It wasn’t an easy decision, but at the time, it felt like the right one. I was falling in love with Wilder, and that scared the shit out of me. I hadn’t been prepared for such intense feelings, and I couldn’t work out how they factored into the life plans I’d spent the last four years putting together for myself and my mom.
So, I ran… right into the arms of three tortured musicians.
Chapter5
WILDER
