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“And you chose this? Do we even know you at all?”
A self-deprecating laugh falls from my lips.“Do you want a drink?” I ask, refusing to go down that road.
“Sure.”
It’s not until I get to the door that I realise she’s paused the TV.
“What are you doing?”
“Waiting,” she says, looking over at me with wide eyes that for once aren’t full of nothing but pain and grief.
“It’s okay, you don’t?—”
“We’re watching it together, aren’t we?” she asks with a hopeful lilt.
A smile curls at my lips. “Yeah. We are. I’ll be back,” I say before ducking out of the room and jogging downstairs.
This whole movie night in my bed screams dangerous, but right now, I’d do anything to keep that lightness in her eyes.
The guys are going to be back tomorrow, and the girls will hurt me if Abigail is still drowning.
I grab as many cans as I can carry and head back up, hoping that a few hours of just being a normal eighteen-year-old will help show her that there is another way to deal with all this grief than to take a blade to her thigh.
When I kick the door open, I find her exactly where I left her with her legs under my duvet and her back resting against the headboard.
She immediately looks over and the second her eyes land on mine the most amazing thing happens.
She smiles.
An honest, wide, beautiful smile.
Something flutters in my chest as my own grin grows, and I’m reminded of just how dangerous this is.
Since the moment Liv befriended Abigail at the beginning of the year it was clear there was something different about her.
And whatever that something is has drawn me in like a moth to a flame.
15
ABIGAIL
Iwatch Elliot sleeping. The gentle rise and fall of his chest. The way his muscles expand and contract under his t-shirt. The slight flutter of his dark lashes. That little frown that seems permanently etched into his brows.
Elliot Eaton is beautiful. A devastatingly beautiful storm. One that I can’t help gravitating toward.
I know it’s wrong to watch him like this, but I can’t stop myself.
He’s so… at peace.
All while I feel like I’m breaking apart from the inside. Piece by tiny little piece.
It was nice at first, watching the movie with him. Pretending that nothing had changed. But as time crept on, the hollow pit in my stomach swallowed any sense of normalcy I felt, until I could barely concentrate on the moving images.
I forced myself to do it though just to avoid anymore of Elliot’s unforgiving scrutiny—or judgement.
He’s so good at controlling his emotions, but it doesn’t mean we all are.
I scratch my arms, trying to relieve the itch, the constant feel of my skin being too tight. Too… everything.
