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Sadness rushes in to replace it.
I always knew that what I had with Zoey came with a time limit. An expiration date. I just never wanted to think about when it would actually come up; and I sure as hell never wanted to think about how I’d feel once it was over.
Well, it’s over now. It has to be. And I feel like any reason to wake up tomorrow leaves along with it.
I pick up my sketchbook from my desk. The one I don’t hide in my closet anymore—thanks to Zoey.
I flip to the sketch I drew of her, of the night we met.
I think for a minute that maybe it would’ve been better if we never met that night. If the guys and I just stayed home here and threw a normal Ice Box house party. If our eyes never locked from across the room. If she never talked to that asshole who I had to save her from. If I let her leave after that instead of offering to buy her a drink.
But no matter what, I can’t believe that. I can never regret the time I spent with Zoey.
Even in the short time we were together, she made me a better person. She helped me stand up to my dad, she helped me feel more confident about my art. She helped me feel more confident aboutme.
But it’s all over now.
I just wish I’d been able to give her more in return than risking her future and possibly damaging her relationship with her dad, just for a few good times.
31
ZOEY
“You have to let me say it just once,” Kayla says, sitting next to my on the couch where I’m curled up with one of our big, fluffy throw pillows pressed to my chest.
I narrow my eyes on her, my bottom lick sticking out. “Fine.”
“I knew it.”
I roll my eyes. “You did not.”
“Of course, I did, Zoey. I’m your best friend. You think you could keep the fact that you wereobviouslyup to your neck in a spicy tryst hidden from me?”
I rest my chin on the top of the pillow. The last twenty-four hours have sucked so bad. I decided to skip every class today, and when Kayla saw the look in my eyes this morning when she came out of her room and saw me on the couch staring blankly and sadly at the wall, she decided to join me in playing hooky.
Yesterday, when I got home, I couldn’t bear to talk to anyone, not even Kayla. I shut myself up in my room and covered my sobs by pushing my head into a pillow. When Kayla knocked on my door, I told her I just wasn’t feeling well.
This morning, though, she could tell something was up. So, I finally just spilled the whole story.
“How did you know it was Liam, though?” I ask, thinking we’d done a good job of covering our tracks.
“Come on,” Kayla groans. “Who else would it be if you were trying so hard to hide it?”
Burying my head in the pillow, I close my eyes and let myself fall into the memory of the last moment I had with Liam. The last moment we had before what we had to know was going to happen eventually, did happen.
The way it felt to be hoisted in his arms, the firm softness of his lips against mine, his sandalwood scent nipping at my nose.
The physicality felt good, but what felt even better was sharing in the happiness of the news he brought me—in that moment, it felt like I was a real, meaningful part of his life.
It felt like he took a big personal step, and that he took it with me holding his hand right by his side, even if I wasn’t there in person.
That was a feeling so incredible that even the orgasms he gave me pale in comparison.
“Have you talked to your dad since it happened?” Kayla asks.
I shake my head. “He tried to talk to me in the hallway after Liam walked away, but I just couldn’t.” Anger swells inside me as I think about the way my dad spoke to Liam, insinuating that I wasn’t able to make my own decisions, that he’d tricked me or deceived me into what we were doing. He actually thought he was protecting me by ruining what I had with Liam, someone that made me happier than anything ever has in my life. “He’s tried to call a couple times since, but … I just can’t right now.”
“Have you tried to talk with Liam? Maybe he’s willing to face the consequences for you two to stay together?”
