Page 43 of Veiled in Brick

The moment was somber, for I didn’t know how to handle the slow heat that had settled in my veins. Liam’s expression, however, showed something that I could only place as regret, and I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t bear the ache any longer, and I pulled my hand away from his.

“Ah,” Liam muttered, “sorry.”

Sniffling up the tears that were attempting to resurface, I gruffly stated, “I should go.”

“Go?”

“Yeah, it’s—I—long day, I—erm, tired.” The stammered sentence was almost nonsensical, and it made Liam tilt his head to the side.

“Zoey, what—I know I’m not your—your favorite person right now, but you should stay for a little bit.” There was a hopefulness in his eyes that hit me like a punch to the gut. “I can grab you a drink or—or just water; give it a minute to make sure the creep’s gone.”

I didn’t know how I could manage that. I could still see the gentle care that he held for me in his gaze, but there was an underlying tension that I knew we could both feel. It wriggled underneath my skin and made me shudder, but it was no use—the feeling remained.

“I’ll be good, Lee,” I told him with what I hoped looked like a reassuring smile as I pushed myself to stand, welcoming the pain in my palms. I chuckled nervously, morbidly joking, “If you hear a loud bang or anything, he probably came back for seconds.”

Liam shook his head, narrowing his eyes as he admonished me gravely, “That’s not funny, Zoey.” I ignored his complaint. I found my keys surprisingly quickly when I looked into my purse—they had fallen inside a hidden pocket in the lining—and I walked to his door. I placed a hand on the knob as I waved him a general goodbye, and he called out, “You can call me if you need anything—you know that, right?”

“Yeah,” I replied quietly. “Later.”

I barely heard his uttered, “Bye, Zo’,” as the door shut behind me.

Chapter 8

“Zoey!”

Claire’s voice filtered through my ajar bedroom door, and my eyelids snapped open. I groaned, lifting a hand to rub at the space between my eyes for I felt as though I had just fallen asleep. The drama of what had occurred with both Liam and James along with the incident from the night prior had twisted me up so badly that I could feel the bags under my eyes. I pulled my legs up to my chest, hugging them to myself tightly as I heard Claire storm her way into my bedroom. The mattress moved with her as she sat upon it, and I glanced to her hesitantly. She wasn’t visible in 20/20, for I didn’t have the energy to reach for my glasses on the bedside table yet, but I couldn’t find the headspace to care.

“Hi,” I offered her a weak greeting that sounded just about as pitiful as I felt.

I felt rather than saw Claire place my frames on my face. She fully came into view, looking a bit worse for wear as she appeared to have sprinted here directly from Luke’s apartment on the third floor. She was entirely dressed in his garb—a white t-shirt and black sweatpants completely drowned her petite frame—and her fiery hair did not look like it had seen a brush yet this morning.

She tilted her head, looking at me sympathetically as she asked, “The hell happened to you?” I squeezed my legs tighter to my chest and she scolded me lightly, “I texted you last night and this morning. You’re not one to disappear, Zoey, I was—”

“Called it off with Jay,” I spoke in a gritty voice.

“What?” she whispered back in a consoling tone. “Why—”

“Liam tried to kiss me.”

She stood, looking down at me with a shocked gaze before she yelled, “What?!”

“As you can see, I’m taking it very well,” I murmured.

“I—what,” she paused and then gently asked, “How did this all happen?” Her pretty, freckled face blurred into the tears that filled my eyes, and I felt her sit on the bed once more. I attempted to hide my face in my pillow, but she pushed at my shoulder, rolling me to make eye contact with her. One look at her concerned expression, and I had to place a hand over my mouth to stifle any mournful noise that emitted from it. “Jesus, Zoey,” she muttered. “What happened to you?”

I bypassed the occurrence from the night before, for it wasn’t why I had begun to cry.

“Is this what happens when you fucking feel things with men?” I complained in a whiny tone. “Because this is awful, Claire, what the fuck.”

“Okay,” she replied on an exhale. “Do you want to start from the beginning?”

I wasn’t sure where the beginning even was.

I grumbled, “What does that even mean?” Claire shrugged in response, and I sighed heavily, beginning with, “Some chick smacked me across the face at Henry’s the night before last.”

Her eyes widened. “How did I not hear about that?” She continued right on with, “Wrong question, sorry—why did you get smacked across the face?”

“Liam was with her a few months back,” I told her. “Ghosted her.”

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