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I stand and go to the kitchen to grab another drink. When I turn around, Sophie stands with her hands on her hips, not allowing me to avoid her this time.
“What’s your deal?” she asks boldly.
I glare at her, studying her chestnut eyes while her mouth purses in a firm line.
“Nothing,” I say.
“Nothing,” she whisper-hisses. “Nothing? You’ve obviously got an issue with me being here or perhaps just me in general.”
Her frustration causes me to chuckle.
“I don’t have an issue with you, Soph.”
“Then Maddie?”
I shake my head and lean against the counter. “I’ve just had a shitty day.”
She helps herself to the fridge and pops open a can of soda, then starts drinking it. “So I guess every day I’m around, it’s a shitty day then? Because that’s what it seems like.”
I can see her pulse ticking rapidly in her neck and can only imagine how much courage it took for her to confront me. Though she’s sassy as sin and usually speaks her mind, this is a bolder side she’s showing. One I really like. When it comes to me, she typically holds back. One day, I wish she’d just give it to me—tell me off and state me how much she hates me—so then I can just bury these dangerous emotions I’ve kept at bay, forget about her, and forget about what happened.
Though I know I’d never be able to forget her.
“No,” I croak out. “Not exactly.” Sophie is like a ray of sunshine on my dark, stormy days, and she has no idea I use my asshole ways to hide behind my true feelings.
With pursed lips, she tilts her head at me, giving me a chance to explain myself, but I don’t.
“Are we done here?” I ask. “Kinda tired of the interrogation.”
“Wow. You really are an asshole,” she barks as I walk past her, not wanting to be alone with her any longer. I go back to the living room, and Maddie’s looking at me with a big ass grin.
“Did you just kiss my sister?” she whisper-shouts.
Liam chuckles, which only annoys me further.
“What, why? Did you two make out while we were gone?” I snap back.
Maddie’s smile fades, and she stiffens. I look back and forth between them with a cocked eyebrow and neither finds it funny.
“That’s what I thought.” Just as I’m getting ready to add fuel to the fire, Sophie returns, and I can tell she’s pissed. I know I’m to blame, but I tell myself it’s better this way. I’ve said it so many times over the past two years that even I’m beginning to believe it.
The thoughts of her being with someone else consume me. When I close my eyes, I see her kissing another man or sleeping with another man, and it frustrates the fuck out of me. Liam turns on a movie, some stupid chick flick, and though I don’t understand why he subjects himself to this shit, I’m grateful for the distraction. He’s not dating either one of them and, as far as I know, doesn’t plan on it. Typically, movies like this are date movies where you get laid after, but that isn’t happening for anyone in this room.
When another cheesy line is said, I let out a groan, and Maddie jerks her head in my direction with a scoff. You’d think I just told her dancing was stupid by the way she’s acting. The truth is, we should be watching explosions and gun fights, not this romantic comedy shit. Finally, I can’t take it anymore and leave. Once I’m in my room, I shut the door behind me and sit on the edge of my bed. I scrub my hands over my face, trying to get ahold of myself because my control seems to be slipping, and I know they’re all annoyed by me and my asshole attitude.
After a few deep breaths, I stand and walk to my closet and pull out a shoebox I keep tucked in the back. It’s been a few years since I’ve opened the box full of memories—some good and some bad. Even looking inside is torturous, but I have to, especially after today.
I set it on the nightstand next to my bed and pry off the lid. Instantly all the old thoughts come rushing back, nearly paralyzing me where I sit. With an erratic heartbeat, I grab a photo of Emma and me when we were happy. One of those genuine moments when everything was right in the world. There’s another photo of us on Valentine’s Day along with a few movie tickets and doodles she drew me. I can’t seem to take my eyes off the picture of us, laughing and smiling. I stare until my eyes cross. With blurred vision, I place the top on the box and put it back. Looking inside that box brings an old familiar weight on my chest, and I’m nearly gasping for air.
