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“Oh, Abs.” She slides to the edge of the sofa and reaches across for my hand. “You have to know how beautiful you are.”
“I really don’t want to talk about it.”
I want the ground to open up and swallow me whole.
Why can’t they understand that I’m not like them—that I never will be?
Sure, for a little while there, I began to believe I could be different. More confident and self-assured like the three of them.
That maybe one day, someone would look at me and see past my crippling shyness and hideous scars.
“Okay, okay.” Tally sighs. “We didn’t invite you to interrogate you, I promise.” She levels Liv and Raine with a scathing look.
“Hey, I’m just saying, I think Ethan could be good for her,” Raine says, giving me a knowing look.
I glance away, trying not to let my emotions run away with me.
Ethan pities me. He doesn’t like me.
Grief does funny things to people. Bonds and tethers them. But it doesn’t mean he has actual feelings for me. I barely know him.
Thankfully, Liv’s phone bleeps loudly and she laughs as she reads the incoming message.
“I knew he wouldn’t be able to hold out.” She holds up the screen to reveal a selfie of Reese, Theo, and Oakley.
“Where’s Elliot?” Millie asks, and my entire body locks up as I brace myself for her answer.
“He’s right there, look, in the background. Talking to his Dad and—” She stops herself and I suddenly find my nails interesting.
“Who is that?” Millie doesn’t pick up on the undercurrent.
Her words are invisible daggers as I brace myself for the two little words I know will follow.
“That’s Lauren Winrow.”
But it’s her next words that really cut deep.
“Oh, she’s beautiful.”
26
ELLIOT
“Where are you going?” Scott shouts as I make my way through the hotel’s entrance.
The charity gala tonight has been about as exciting as all the other events we’ve been forced to attend over the years.
Sure, it’s for a good cause. They always are.
What better way to make the corrupt citizens of Saints Cross than to organise lavish events and raise a shit ton of money for those in need.
Dad, as always, was one of the biggest donors to tonight’s children’s charity.
I almost laughed out loud when he raised his paddle, playing a stupidly high winning big on some fancy weekend away in the Alps. If he wanted to support young people and give them the possibility of making their own choices for the future, then he really should look a little closer to fucking home.
“Home,” I shoot over my shoulder.
As far as I’m concerned, my obligations for the night are over.
