by Kelsie Rae
He’s probably right.
I don’t move away this time, though. Not yet.
I guess I’m a glutton for punishment.
But what a way to go.
13
Saylor
“So…what was that about?” Skye asks as soon as we walk into our apartment.
My keys jingle as they hit the counter. “Nothing.”
“Liar.” She grins.
“It was nothing,” I reiterate.
“Mm-hmm. Okay. Keep your secrets. For what it’s worth, I think he’s serious about treating you right. Then again, what do I know? I married an asshole who lied to me, then when I found out, he disappeared so….” She shrugs, then heads to the hall when I stop her.
“Hey, Skye?”
Turning back to me, she answers, “Yeah?”
“I’m really sorry about Liam. I know I’ve said it a thousand times, but I’m here for you, okay? I know that I’ve been dealing with work, and Owen, and everything else going on, but I’m serious. I’m here for you, and I’m sorry if I’ve seemed…distracted.”
“You haven’t seemed distracted,” she tsks before leaning her shoulder against the wall. “You’ve been living your life, Say, and that’s a good thing. That’s what I want for you. You should know that better than anyone. You saw Sway find Anthony. You saw me with Liam. And even though you were still hurting, you never once called us out for being distracted. You want what’s best for your sisters, and so do I. And I really think that Owen could be what’s best for you. I’ve just kind of been in pause mode since Liam disappeared, and that’s on me. But I’m happy to see you moving on with The Big O, even though I’m insanely jealous,” she adds with a wink.
“I’m not moving on––”
“Oh, so the little makeout session in the middle of the pod race with Anakin was just a way to pass the time?” she challenges.
“We weren’t making out! It was a kiss!”
“Apparently, it was a good one ‘cause I’m pretty sure I heard you whimper when he pulled away.”
My teeth dig into my inner cheek to keep from grinning as my face flames with embarrassment.
“I hate you right now. You know that, right?”
“Love you too,” she sings, pushing away from the wall. “Goodnight, Say.”
“Hey,” I call out as she heads to her room.
“Yeah?”
“For what it’s worth, you’re going to be okay. Whether or not Liam comes back, you’ll be okay.”
Her eyes shine with unshed tears before she takes a deep breath and gives me a jerky nod. “Goodnight.”
Then she disappears down the hall to her bedroom. With a quick twist of my wrist, I snap the silver lock into place on our front door. My shoes scuff along the wood floors as I make my way to my room, then slip them off and change into some pajamas. The water is cold when I splash it on my face to rinse off my makeup and brush my teeth before sliding between my satin sheets.
My phone vibrates on my nightstand, lighting up the otherwise dark room with a notification.
Curious, I roll over and pick it up.
OD: How was your night?
With a grin, I try to tamper down my feelings, but it feels almost impossible as I reply with the most blasé response I can think of.
Slytherin4ever: Fine. Yours?
OD: Just fine?
I roll my eyes.
Slytherin4ever: Okay…it was REALLY good. Happy now?
OD: Yes. Are you gonna ask how my night went?
I snort before remembering I’m not supposed to know how his night went. Because he isn’t talking to Saylor right now. He’s talking to Slytherin4ever.
Why is he messaging her and not me?
Curiosity eats at my guilt for creating this situation in the first place as I type my response.
Slytherin4ever: Okay…how did your night go?
OD: My night was good. Great, actually. I finally kissed her.
My cheeks pinch with a giant smile as I read the message. He’s like a little kid on his birthday who’s dying to brag about all the cool gifts he received. And it’s absolutely adorable. We used to tell each other everything. He used to be the first person I’d call or text. Even after we broke up, my hands would naturally pull up his contact info, itching to push send anytime anything exciting would come up in my life.
And now, he’s reaching out to her. Slytherin4ever.
Shaking off my insecurities, I reread his last message, then type my reply.
Slytherin4ever: Is that right?
OD: Yeah. And it only confirmed my feelings for her. I love the shit out of that girl.
Like a sucker punch, his words leave me breathless. I type out a dozen responses, but none of them feel right. I feel too guilty to ask him anything about it. He shouldn’t be messaging me. And he wouldn’t be if I hadn’t messed with him in the first place.
So what the hell am I supposed to do? Ghosting him would be weird now, wouldn’t it? But keeping this friendship going while pretending to be two different people isn’t exactly healthy either. And if he finds out…then what? Will he hate me? Will he think I’m a freak for being so immature? What the hell am I supposed to do?
My phone vibrates with another notification.
OD: You okay?
Slytherin4ever: Yeah. Why do you ask?
OD: You didn’t respond. What are you thinking about?
That I royally screwed up.
Slytherin4ever: Have you talked to her since the kiss?
OD: No. I want to, but I figured she’d want space. But I’m also dying to know what she’s thinking. What do you think she’s thinking? Hypothetically, of course.
My chest tightens.
Slytherin4ever: I think she’s probably freaking out a little bit. Not necessarily in a bad way. She probably liked the kiss the same way you did, and I’d bet it confirmed her feelings for you too. She’s probably just scared.
OD: How can I make her not scared?
I chew my lower lip, desperate to give him an answer. If only I knew what it was.
Slytherin4ever: Take it slow. Don’t rush her. And just…promise me you won’t hurt her again.
I press send before I can overthink it, my hands shaking as I stare at the screen.
OD: I promise I’ll never hurt her again. And I can be as patient as she needs me to be. I’m not going anywhere.
Slytherin4ever: Good. I think that’s all she needs to hear. Probably more than once, though. Lol
OD: I’ll keep that in mind.
Slytherin4ever: And don’t…expect anything from her. Not yet.
OD: I won’t. I promise. Thanks for your advice.
Slytherin4ever: Don’t mention it. I should probably get some sleep. Night, Owen.
OD: Goodnight, Slytherin4ever.
14
Saylor
Why am I nervous right now? a tiny voice demands as I swing open the break room door. I should not be having a mini-meltdown on my way to work for the day. So what? I haven’t seen Owen in a couple of days, and he hasn’t even reached out to me since our kiss. But he’s definitely enjoyed chatting with Slytherin4ever.
What does that even mean?
And yes, the only thing he ever talks about is the girl he’s supposedly in love with, but why hasn’t he tried to contact me? Saylor? The girl he kissed and supposedly has feelings for, yet refuses to talk to.
And why do I even care? It was just a kiss. What is wrong with me?
Practically vibrating with frustration, I jerk open the cabinet in the breakroom and find an empty mug while ignoring a certain someone who’s busy chatting it up with another certain someone who’s wearing a short, plaid skirt and a coy little smile as she twirls her hair around her finger like a sexy schoolgirl.
Barf.
A bit of the coffee splashes onto the counter as I pour it into my cup. “Fan-freaking-tastic,” I mutter under my breath before tearing off a square of paper towel.
“Rough morning?” a dee
p, familiar voice questions from my right.
Flinching, I glance over my shoulder. “Oh. Hi.”
“Hey,” Owen greets me.
“How can I help you?”
He smiles. “I was just thinking about something.”
“Get to the point, Owen.”
“You know in the fourth Harry Potter––”
“It’s titled Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire,” I correct him, though I have no idea why I’m jumping down his throat.
Slow your roll, Say.
“Oookay….” He grabs the back of his neck and squeezes the tight muscles while simultaneously flexing the cord of muscles in his forearm. I blink away the mouth-watering image, angry it’s already committed itself to memory.
Sexy bastard.
“Well, I was just thinking about the winter ball,” he continues, “and how Hermoine gets a little pissed at Ron because he doesn’t ask her.”
Forgetting about my crappy cup of coffee, I fold my arms and huff out, “What’s your point?”
The bastard knows me way too well to be put off by my stupid temper tantrum and opens the fridge door next to the counter before retrieving the stupid creamer I’m obsessed with. His stupidly attractive smirk grates on my stupidly overactive nerves as he sets it next to my stupid mug.
Everything is just so…stupid.
I ignore it but hold his gaze, daring him to say the wrong thing and piss me off even more.
“I’m wondering if you’d like to be my date to the Boo Bash next week.”
I scowl. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“Because it just…isn’t.”
He sighs. “I thought we’d moved past this, Say.”
“I thought so, too, but the moment we kissed, you just fell off the face of the planet, and––”
My mouth snaps shut as I force myself to keep any more word vomit from tumbling out of me.
“Wait.” His brows furrow. “Are you mad at me for not calling you this weekend?”
I glare back at him before fussing with my stupid coffee and creamer.
His laugh doesn’t hold any humor in it before he leans his hip against the counter, forcing himself into view.
“I was trying to give you space and be patient in hopes of not scaring you off. Apparently, it had the opposite effect,” he adds under his breath. “I wanted to call you, Say.”
Digging my fingernails into the palms of my hands, I stay silent but hold his gaze.
“Do you believe me?” he prods.
“I gotta get to class.”
“Wait.” His fingers wrap around my bicep as he holds me in place. “Talk to me.”
“Why? You seem plenty chatty with everyone else but me. Why start now?”
“What do you mean, everyone else?” he demands, his nostrils flaring.
“Nothing.”
He shakes his head. “Not nothing. Tell me.”
I can’t, I want to scream, but I bite my tongue.
Unfortunately for me, the bastard can read me like a book and leans a little closer, towering over me with his massive height. “Are you pissed that I reached out to Slytherin4ever, Say? That I’ve been talking to her instead of you?”
The floor feels like it’s been dropped out from under me, making my knees threaten to collapse. Convinced I’ve heard him wrong, I stammer, “W-what did you just say?”
“I know about your other profile, Say.”
Shit.
“H-how did you––”
“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you can’t accuse me of leaving you high and dry after that kiss. I wanted to reach out, but I didn't want to scare you.”
“So, what?” I seethe, attempting to ignore the way the room is spinning right now. “You used a less conventional route to spy on me and get a feel for my reaction?”
“Spy on you?” he scoffs. “You’re joking, right? You started it, Say. You created the profile. You messaged me out of the blue. That’s on you. Not on me.”
“But you knew!”
“Yeah, and I was desperate enough for your attention that I didn't give a shit. I just wanted to talk to you. To get you to let your guard down for once in your life.”
“Once in my life?” I laugh dryly while avoiding the curious stares from our fellow coworkers. “Sorry, Owen, but you’ll have to cut me a little slack on that one. My guard was down the first time you broke my heart, remember? I guess you’ll have to be a little patient with me while I try to figure out how to let you in a second time. Although now that we’re talking about it, I think we both know what a massive mistake that would be. You lied to me.”
His punishing grip tightens.
“You lied to me,” he argues, his voice sounding like gargled glass. “And I didn’t even give a shit about it, so why the hell are you putting this on me?”
“Because I wanted to talk to you! I wanted proof that you weren’t all that I thought you were cracked up to be in high school. I wanted evidence that you might pretend to like me in real life, but you’d do that to any girl if given the opportunity––”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it. You were always it for me, Say. Always. And I’m tired of trying to prove it to you when you won’t even give me a chance.”
As if I’ve been slapped, I flinch away from him. “So what? You’re done? Again? That’s it?”
“I’m not going anywhere, Say. I’ve already told you that, even though you refuse to believe me. You’re it for me. You’re the one. But I’m not going to play games with you. Call me when you’re ready. The ball is officially in your court.”
His punishing grip disappears from my bicep, and he storms away, leaving me alone with a bunch of gawking coworkers. Including my baby sister.
“Shit,” she murmurs before guiding me into the hallway. I feel like I’m suffocating. Like an elephant is sitting on my chest. Like I’m going to pass out if I don’t get some freaking air.
“Breathe,” Skye orders me, picking up our pace as she practically shoves me into one of the hall closets.
“What just happened?” I cry. My chest is heaving at an uneven rhythm, but I still feel like I can’t breathe.
“Slow down, Saylor. Deep breaths. Slow. Controlled. Just. Breathe.” She demonstrates the motion with each dragged out word, and I slowly start to follow along until my breathing evens out.
“It’s okay,” she whispers. “It’s going to be okay.”
“Didn’t you hear what he said? He’s––”
“He’s not going anywhere, Say. He’s pissed, yeah. But even with whatever blowup that was in there, he still promised to stick around. Just give him some time to cool down.”
“Then what?” I choke out.
“Then we’ll figure it out. But for now, you need to calm down so we can get you to class.”
Shoving my hair away from my face, I drop my head back and stare at the ceiling. She’s right. I have to go to work and put on a happy face for my students.
Fan-freaking-tastic.
A very worried Skye watches me carefully, waiting for another breakdown.
“I’m fine,” I tell her.
“You sure?”
“Yup. Just peachy.”
“Okay.” She grimaces. “Do you want me to see if I can switch to your class today to help? I’m in Bullock’s class, but she saw what went down so––”
“It’s fine. I’m fine. Just…go.” I wave my hand toward the door.
“Say––”
“I’m serious,” I tell her. “I’ll be fine. I just need thirty seconds to myself, and then I’ll put on the same freaking mask that I’ve worn since the moment Owen left me after high school, and no one will be able to notice the difference.”
Her expression falls. “Say––”
“Just go.”
She chews on her lower lip, studying me carefully.
“Seriously, Skye. Go.”
With a quick squeeze, she disappears through
the door, and I take a deep breath.
Focus, Say. It’s gonna be okay.
I just don’t know if it will be.
As I rest my head against the closed door, the tardy bell rings across the halls like a bucket of ice water drenching my tired muscles.
Time’s up.
On Jell-O legs, I get to my classroom and paste a fake smile on my face before making the rounds between desks to catch up with my students’ lives. I always thought it was easier to spend five minutes doing it in the morning than to battle them every few minutes while trying to keep their attention focused on the curriculum. Unfortunately, I have a feeling today’s going to be more difficult than usual.
“Morning, everyone!” I call out, trying to keep my tone even and upbeat. “Did you guys have a good weekend?”
The dull ringing in my ears overwhelms their responses, but I nod every few seconds and add, “Ooo, that sounds fun,” every once in a while for good measure as I weave between their tables until a certain voice cuts through the noise.
“Right, Miss Swenson?”
I turn to the culprit, who’s sitting at his desk with the sweetest look of curiosity I’ve ever seen. “What was that, Grady?”
“I told Turner that the next one is called Attack of the Clones.”
“Oh. Um, yes. That’s the title for the second movie,” I reply.
“So are you coming?” he asks.
