My fingers clench the book so hard I hear the spine creak. Pressing my forehead into my raised knees, I take deep breaths to keep it together. Doesn’t want anything? Is she blind? I want to tear out of the house and hunt her down. Just so I can take her by the shoulders and shout, “You! I want you, you stubborn, deluded pain in my ass!”
At the same time, I pull the book closer to my chest. Emerson’s Essays. She remembered. And she’s given me back a piece of my parents. Did she know I’d be missing them on my birthday? I blink rapidly. Of course she did. Her note all but said it. Suddenly, I find it hard to breathe.
Another knock on my door echoes through my room. “Drew, man… You coming?”
Swallowing several times, I press my fingers against my too hot eyes and find my voice. “Yeah.”
I put the book and card in my bedside drawer and leave the room. Life goes on. Even if you don’t want it to.
IT’S 10 P.M. ON a Friday night, and I’m at a club. On a date.
When Iris insisted I needed to get out of my funk and go on a date, everything in me recoiled at the idea. But then I pictured Drew’s cold eyes meeting mine as he walked away with another girl. True, he gave me a birthday present, but his card said it all—he couldn’t return it so it might as well have gone to me.
We are over, and I have to accept my mistake and move on.
Cameron is perfect. He’s lithe and dark. His black jeans hug his legs as they disappear into his vintage Pumas. His lean chest is covered by a tattered Mr. Yuck t-shirt, which frowns at me as he leans back and takes a pull of his beer. We’ve been discussing the places we’d like to visit in London, and I’m having fun.
Well, as much fun as a girl can have with a goddamn hole in her chest. A fucking empty hole that won’t go away. But maybe tonight will be the trick and I’ll find a way to fill it back up. I absolutely don’t surreptitiously rub a hand along my breastbone when Cameron turns his attention toward the stage. A band is about to perform, and the stage lights cast a halo of blue light over Cameron’s black hair. Those glossy locks swing over his shoulders when he leans toward me, his breath holding a hint of beer as he talks in my ear. “I heard these guys are great.”
I nod. I really don’t know a thing about the band, but I’ll take Cameron’s word for it. He really is beautiful. Thick black lashes frame his blue eyes, and when he puts an arm around my shoulders?
I feel nothing.
I’m not willing to concede defeat. I don’t move away when his warm fingers rest on the back of my neck. Pretty bold, considering we met about an hour before.
“So, how long have you known Iris?” he asks me.
Cameron works at the Juice Shop with Iris. She’d been trying hook Cameron up with me for months. I resisted because of Drew. Who I will not think about tonight.
“We met freshman year.” I take a sip of my beer. It’s gone flat. “Orientation.”
“Cool.” He tosses back a lock of hair. It’s such a perfect move, highlighting his sinewy muscles and showing off his glossy hair, that I wonder if he practices in the mirror. An insane, and unwelcome, impulse tempts me to ask if he plucks out half-assed versions of Crash Into You on the guitar.