Page 75 of Habits

It won’t change anything.

The wrongs won’t be rewritten and the present will still be the same, but in this one moment, we let ourselves feel the sadness of what might have been.

His forehead presses into mine, and I close my eyes, letting myself feel.

All of it.

All the possibilities and choices.

All the paths we could have taken, the paths the people around us could have taken, and maybe if they had, maybe ifwehad, we wouldn’t be as broken and jaded as we are.

Irreparable.

What might have been if his mother had stayed and they were still a family. What might have been if that day I didn’t give in to Maddy and her friends. What might have been if his dad spent more time with him, instead of working long hours and avoiding his home and son. What might have been if I didn’t give in to the pressure of my peers.

What might have been …

So many what ifs. So many possibilities, so many options. But at the end of the day, what mights are just an illusion. Just a lie. Beautiful, but a lie nonetheless.

We are who we are because of the choices we made.

The paths we took.

If things were different, if his parents had stayed together or if I hadn’t gone through what I did, would they have led us to this moment?

To this now?

His hands cup my cheeks, rough fingertips brushing over my cheekbones. I flutter my eyes open, looking at his deep greens.

“Don’t you dare pity me, Jeanette Sanders.”

I let the small chuckle part my lips. “Do I look like somebody capable of that? Besides, there is nothing to pity. You had a fucked-up childhood, boo-fucking-hoo. You’re not the first one, and you most surely won’t be the last. Hell, you didn’t even see the worst of it. Don’t you dare think that excuses your shitty behavior and asshole attitude.”

Andrew laughs, and it feels good. It feels good to laugh. To let go of all the bad surrounding us, all the tension and hard memories and justbe.

“What about you, Ice Princess? Or is it Queen? I’m never sure.”

I shove him away, rolling my eyes at his playful tone.

“What about me?”

“What’s your story?”

Flashbacks run in front of my eyes. All the things that have happened in the last few years. Too many things. Too many memories. My smile falls, but I try to hold on to it.

“It’s a story for another day,” I finally say. “After your emotional vomit, I think we’ve both had enough.”

He shakes his head. “Brat.”

“You still like me.”

Green eyes look at me attentively. I hold his gaze, letting him take his fill, but also taking in mine.

The way his eyes are just a tad darker and mossy. The way his tawny hair sticks out in all directions, making him look like a mischievous little boy. The pout of his lips.

“Yeah, I kind of do.”

I nibble at my lower lip as his words settle. My heart skips a beat and I inhale sharply. Andrew Hill just said he likes me.

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