The Best Moments (The Amherst Sinners Book 2)

by Elena Monroe

“I’ve been trying to tell you for days how hard this is for me, how much I think I’m falling for you, and how I finally feel like myself because I’m comfortable enough to be myself around you. But clearly whatever this was—was one-sided. Don’t even worry about it, Oliver. I should have listened to everyone about you.”

  I felt so accomplished as I walked away with my weekender hanging from my arm. I didn’t dare turn around, but it was obvious he didn’t come after me. I don’t know that it would have made a difference either way.

  I found my gate in this confusing airport and waited for boarding to start. I still had forty minutes, which gave B plenty of time to interrogate me. I didn’t know if my anger would withstand questioning. I pictured it leaving as fast as it arrived, and I knew I would be reduced to tears. I shoved my hand in my purse searching the bottomless pit for my headphones—the best “do not disturb” sign a person can have.

  I watched B’s concerned eyes find me, regardless of sliding down in my seat. I refused to look at her and simply turned up my music. I kept looking at the screen, waiting for him to text—some great apology from the English Major.

  After boarding the plane, I still carried the same hope. I lost hope when my finger tapped “airplane mode”, disconnecting me from Connecticut completely.

  I was thankful for the 1, 293 miles.

  Halfway through the flight B was tapping my leg, trying to get my attention. Every time I flew, my ears became blocked, to the point where I could hardly hear her. She showed me her phone, pointing to a text from Aiden. He was having some holiday party since we’d all be in the same place again. Aiden went to Florida State with Miguel—both lifers. I expected them to never leave.

  I leaned over telling her, “We aren’t even home, and you’ve created a whole social calendar? Can’t we do something else besides go to a party?”

  They were convenient, mind numbing, and organized fun, but I could live with seeing a movie in the dark instead.

  All parties did was remind me of Oliver. I was sure that tomorrow, when I ended up at Starbucks, that too would be ruined by his memory. I honestly drew a thousand lines connecting him back to the smallest things, like this seatbelt I still had fastened. The memory flooded each one of my senses.

  The first time I got in the car with him I reminded him about his seatbelt and he had laughed. He educated me: “Seatbelt? Bad things will happen if they want to. Do you wear a raincoat in the shower to avoid getting wet?”

  I remember shaking my head no, and my eyebrows expressively picking apart what he meant. It was the stupidest thing I had ever heard. He finally explained instead of letting me mil it over, “I don’t avoid danger. I embrace it. Bad things will happen either way.”

  I really hoped my whole break wasn’t filled with these memories, which I didn’t find important until my lonely heart could draw a line back to him—any excuse to think of him.

  Once I got home, I ended up crawling into bed, only to fall asleep and wake up the next day. My body crashed from the betrayal and the flight’s effects on my senses. I woke up in a familiar place, but I felt like a stranger. I didn’t realize how much I’ve moved past the innocent girl who always said yes, who always needed control, who didn’t talk back and didn’t let anyone in—not even her best friend. That person felt like a stranger, just like this room. Now I was some braver, less-controlled, sassy-when-poked, and almost the opposite of the uncomfortable girl that I was before.

  The house was too quiet. I had gotten used to the dorms, campus, Intuition, and the frat house. There was always noise, even if it wasn’t words but the shuffling of feet or the coffee machine creating espresso. It was giving me anxiety, and I was overthinking everything, even more that I normally did, just trying to fill the silence.

  I flipped over my phone, looking at the screen. There weren’t any text messages from Oliver, but rather, there was one from Hunter: You going to Adrian’s party tonight?

  I didn’t respond. I didn’t know how he got my number or why he was even asking me. Oliver broke his nose, and we never came to a conclusion on if he was sorry for what had happened. It abruptly ended, with Oliver showing up, and completely different views of that night.

  I was hoping he stayed in New York, but I guess he was home too.

  I barely left my room the entire day. I tortured myself over why he didn’t have social media, when I very well knew why. He was private and only ached for the power of words. Social media was the polar opposite of his novels. You never got the whole story, and becoming invested was more difficult than the immediate encouragement you could get from Jane Eyre, Pride and Prejudice, or Anna Karenina.

  He laughed one night when I was scrolling through Instagram before bed. “Is it satisfying? Scrolling so fast that nothing can affect you?”

  I didn’t realize how much I wasn’t paying attention as I let myself be distracted. I envied his strength in just being so comfortable with himself without distractions. And now I resented him for not participating with the rest of our generation instead. Now I couldn’t see what he was doing all those miles away. If he was happy, if he moved on, or if he missed me.

  B harassed my phone, sending a text almost every 10 minutes. She knew I wasn’t in my normal state of content. I only replied half the time in a tone that would translate even as she read it. I read her messages over and over.

  What happened between you two??

  Are you okay?

  Call me if you wanna talk!

  I thought you guys were good!

  I liked him for you!

  What an asshole!

  I’m sorry, babe!

  She went from loving him to hating him between each message, like she couldn’t decide. I couldn’t clarify anything. I was just as confused.

  I forced myself to get ready hours before she was picking me up. I was lacking motivation as I dragged myself into the shower down the hallway. After my prolonged shower, I sat at my desk, pulling a mirror closer to me. I didn’t feel amazing, and it was reflecting back at me. My eyes were swollen and red. My cheeks looked smeared with a cheap blush. My lips were dry and chapped. I pulled my makeup bag out of the top draw, silently thankful for the extra stuff I left behind.

  Once I was dressed, I felt like I could maybe pretend nothing happened. I pulled on my booties, a body suit I never had the confidence to wear because it clung to the curves in my hips that was never as slim as girls around me, and my high waisted jeans that were just as painted to my skin. I let my black denim jacket fall off one shoulder, and I caught myself watching how one exposed shoulder tempted me into being dangerous. I wanted to be toxic, bad… like a version of Oliver, who didn’t seem to care and showed it in his actions.

  Adrian’s parties were legendary, but nothing like college. It was like everyone “grew up” and realized they had more to prove, making the parties borderline dangerous. The alcohol, the drugs, the sex—all was on overload in comparison. I was curious what would be behind the front door. B grabbed my arm, letting her face relax into a resting bitch face. We walked together in unison, but she was strutting, like she was untouchable, while I barely lifted my feet off the ground. My desire to be bad faded quickly, as the car parked. Now I felt like I was playing dress up.

  The music was already blaring Florida’s finest: Pouya and Fat Nick’s “Middle of the Mall”. That was one of the contrasts about home and New England’s taste in music—it was the top of the charts with little room for indie or underground. I laughed out loud, thinking of Caden’s affinity for Arianna Grande. Before I realized it, my hips were swaying, as I got lost in his verse, blaring through the room.

  I spotted Miguel and untangled my arm from the crook of B’s. I walked off without warning, trying to avoid him at all cost. Every time I would see Miguel, he would persistently try to hit on me and was immune to subtle hints. Now it was more comical, what he used to want no longer existed. I ended up outside on the porch, far from where I spotted him. I poured some soda into a cup, staying clear of
any alcohol. I didn’t want to mix being out of control with the lack of control I already felt. If I was really honest, I didn’t feel comfortable drinking without Oliver. I felt safe around him—safe enough to lose control.

  The sliding doors were pushed open all the way, letting the music escape, as I felt myself sway side to side again, now matching my shoulders. I didn’t bother stopping myself. I wanted to get lost in anything else but thinking of him.

  My eyes were darting around the party, still trying to avoid Miguel, when I heard a familiar husky voice say my name behind me. I tensed up instantly.

  “Who are you avoiding, Princess? Me?”

  I turned around and saw Hunter’s nose was perfectly healed. I wondered if time really did heal all wounds.

  Instead of miles, I was now lusting for time. If Oliver were anyone else, just a friend, I would have pushed him from my mind with ease. I wondered to myself, would it be easier to forget him if we hadn’t had sex? Did Oliver knowing me in a way no one else did create some unbreakable bond? Would time be enough to heal my hurting heart? I had two months to figure all that out.

  I examined his face—cool and collected. I didn’t want to talk to him, but all my feelings had built up inside. I needed to talk to anyone, out loud. I couldn’t even bring myself to tuck it all away in my journal. Each time I broke the binding, I would stare at a blank page, and suddenly my eyes would well up with moisture. If I weren’t so broken, it would be comical. Before, I never had anything to write in my journal, but now I had everything to say and couldn’t muster the motivation to document it.

  I shrugged in Hunter’s direction. “Miguel.”

  He smelled like pot and cologne. It was overwhelming my senses. “Thought you were friends?” he said.

  I shrugged again, unsure of how to stand or act around him casually.

  Instead, he spoke for me, “He likes you, huh? Let me guess: He can’t take a hint?”

  I leaned against the railing, tapering off the deck. He was reading my mind. I spotted Miguel searching for me with two drinks in his hand, and I stepped behind Hunter’s frame, hoping he didn’t see me.

  Hunter stepped aside, throwing me directly into Miguel’s line of vision. Just when he was starting to seem pleasant, he quickly reminded me he wasn’t someone I could trust.

  He moved into me, pushing me into the railing with his hand on my hip. His head hung low, as he whispered, “Laugh. Now.” I was too frozen by his emotions to do as he said, until I felt his hand tickle at my sensitive side, forcing me to giggle into his chest. He spun me around in a smooth dance move, fluid. I landed right against him with my hands on his chest, trying to balance myself, as he leaned me against the railing. He looked at me with hungry eyes, and I felt his fingers lift my chin up.

  Before I could think, never mind overthink, his lips pressed so softly against mine I could barely taste him. He pulled away, with a concerned expression, before I realized he wasn’t looking at me at all. His gaze was behind me.

  I turned around slowly, as his hands still held my hips, and there was Miguel, looking pissed off. I pretended to be looking elsewhere, when out of the corner of my eye, I watched him storm back inside. Once it was safe, I pulled away from Hunter’s grasp.

  “Thanks… for that.”

  “No problem. But now you owe me two favors. One for your boyfriend breaking my nose… and now for that.”

  I wanted to cry, as I forced myself to say, “He’s not my boyfriend… anymore.”

  I watched him tense up in the space between us, as he reacted to my eyes welling up, threatening to let tears spill. I bit the inside of my cheek, as I looked up through my eyelashes. I wouldn’t let myself cry at some party… in front of Hunter… on my first real day back home. I swiped the red Solo cup from the banister he set it on, having a strong change of mind on my stance.

  After I coughed down the pure alcohol’s sting, I informed him, “I’m going to drink. I might be newly single, but I’m not sleeping with you… and you aren’t going to take advantage.”

  I had to make it clear. I didn’t need my body betraying me again.

  He smirked, the same way Oliver did, but even more dangerously, in a way that was unsettling. He took his drink back swiftly, “Well, let’s get you a proper drink then—one that wasn’t perfectly crafted for me to not abide by any of those ground rules.”

  I followed closely behind him, watching him stop at the counter, when he asked me, “What’s your poison?”

  “I don’t know. Anything.”

  His brows furrowed, like my answer didn’t count. “Okay, what haven’t you tried Miss-I-Never-Drank-In-High-School?”

  “I’ve only had vodka and Jack and coke.”

  He handed me a cup, after pouring what looked like a little of everything. I smelled it before putting it to my lips.

  “It’s coconut rum, coke, and a splash of fireball.”

  It was surprisingly good. It tasted sweet, so sweet it could make for a dangerous night for anyone. I couldn’t taste any alcohol at all. Just a familiar warmth. He watched my lips turn into a smile before I took another sip. Another song I liked came on, making it easy to move to the rhythm. The only thing that pulled me out of that moment was hearing Adrian’s voice.

  “I knew you two would end up together, eventually. I knew something was going on when I kept catching you two upstairs.”

  I shook my head silently into a no, paired with wide eyes, making it obvious he was wrong. I didn’t have enough energy to explain to everyone individually how single I now was. My relationship failed within a few short months after becoming official, failed after I finally started to find myself, failed all because of the distance that terrified us both… Oliver wasn’t the only one with abandonment issues.

  Adrian just looked at me, like he wanted to eat his words, but couldn’t with the way they lingered around us. Hunter didn’t care one bit. He shrugged, not even listening to what was said or pretending he didn’t hear; I couldn’t figure out which one.

  Adrian continued to ask me about school, classes, how New Englanders really were, and how the parties compared—all small talk I couldn’t force myself to be interested in. Hunter stayed close, even though he didn’t add any value to the topics we covered. I kept glancing over, thinking it was odd.

  I excused myself easily when B walked into the room, grasping onto Adrian’s bicep. I flinched, like it hurt to see. What about Caden? Was she going to sleep with Adrian? Did she care about anyone? I scoffed loudly, as I exhaled, walking away. I didn’t bother pouring any more liquor into my cup. I swiped a whole bottle off the counter, disappointed with everyone around me. Then, I thought, Everyone except Hunter, shocking even myself.

  I headed to the only place I knew would be deserted: the space of upstairs. The hallway was dark and comforting. The only noise was the soft bass from the music downstairs. I instantly felt comforted as I entered his room. It was huge and neat with a window overlooking the ocean. I peered out, concentrating on the waves trying to forget the recent loyalty epidemic.

  I pushed the cold glass to my lips, taking a sip of the whiskey. I could feel the heat travel down me as I swallowed.

  “In need of saving again, princess?”

  His husky rasp was undeniable: Hunter. No one else adopted the nickname.

  I turned around, slowly leaning against the window. Quickly my mind reminded me of how Oliver leaned against everything, never committing to sitting or standing. I should have taken that as a sign to run away from him. He couldn’t even commit to a position. I shook my head, willing the reminders of him to go away.

  Another big gulp.

  “No saving. Just running away.”

  He laughed, “Didn’t get too far. You’re only one flight up.” He stopped in front of me, standing so close the bottle was the only thing between us. “The best way to forget someone is to get with someone else.” His fingers wrapped around mine before he took the bottle from my hand. I watched him swallow with no flinching o
r reaction to the flavor.

  “I don’t wanna forget, yet. I wanna live with this. If it disappears, or I stop feeling, then it’s really over.”

  Hunter’s words echoed: Someone else… someone else… and I pictured Jade or Elizabeth coming on to Oliver while I was gone—their bodies against him in ways I had seen before and his aggressive hands and lips trying to cover every inch of them. Maybe he was trying to forget me. It’d be easy; he knew them already. I’m sure even a stranger would be easy for him too. Women clamored for him to just glance their way.

  The sound of the bottle settling on the table jerked me from picturing any female all over Oliver. Suddenly Hunter was closer to me, but still not touching me, hovering. His hands were on the glass of the window behind me, as he leaned down, easily tormenting me for my warning from earlier and pushing the boundaries. His lips touched my ear before he tucked my hair back.

  “You can think of him tomorrow. After all, I had you first, princess.”

  I closed my eyes, picturing Oliver’s lips on skin. I exhaled quickly, before I bit the corner of my lip. I wanted Oliver regardless of what happened. It was like my heart was shattered, but my mind and body couldn’t get on the same page.

  I didn’t tell my hands to glide up Hunter’s shirt and lay against his chest, but they did. I opened my eyes, and he wasn’t Oliver. The alcohol wasn’t numbing the memories or the attraction. It was only numbing the ache in my chest ever so slightly.

  Hunter’s mouth nibbled at my neck pushing me further back against the window. He wasn’t Oliver, but my panties were becoming wet as if he was. I only knew his touch, and my body assumed that if I was being touched it must be Oliver. I felt owned; loyalty ran through me, trying to make me come to my senses.

  I closed my eyes tighter letting myself fall right back into my memories in bed with the one I really desired—the one my body was reacting for, not Hunter, who was suckling at my neck in a way that was going to leave a mark.

  “You know he isn’t alone, waiting patiently for you.”