Page 55 of Landon & Shay: Part Two

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Shay

What.A. Freaking. Jerk.

What nerve Landon had walking up to me, looking all dapper, rich, and famous, like he hadn’t stomped on my heart and left me to die all those years ago. What nerve he had to keep following me that night, to keep trying to reconnect with me after all those years had passed.

I’d imagined what it would be like running into Landon a million times in the past. I’d played out scenarios of how I’d react. I’d gone through every version of it, too. There were three top set-ups I’d settled on the most.

Instant love. I see him, forgive him for everything he did and ignore the fact that he disappeared, broke my heart, and left me for Sarah freaking Sims.

Unleash the rage of a million demons. I snap like a childish psychopath and definitely don’t act my age or display any form of class.

Be like Michelle Obama. When he goes low, I go high. I appear above it all. I smile, I nod, I agree, and I let him know we are civil and fine.Fiiine. I comment on how we were so young when we were dating, we moved on, and I wish him well.

Let’s be honest, I didn’t wish him well.

There was a good period of time when I wished him massive diarrhea during a red carpet event. I wished he’d trip on the steps before accepting his many Oscars. I wished he’d go bald at thirty. There were many things I wished for Landon, but I definitely didn’t wish him well.

Between the three choices, number three was the most grown-up version. Also, I thought that version didn’t provoke any emotions good or bad from me, which made it appear as if he had no effect on me whatsoever. That was exactly what I wanted, too. I wanted him to think I felt nothing good or bad. I kept it classy. Meghan Markle would’ve been so proud of me.

But then, I started drinking, and the alcohol made my emotions skyrocket to a new height, giving me more rage than stillness.

“I hate you,” I repeated as he stood in front of me.

Four words left my lips, leaving me standing there with a very stunned Landon.

His face dropped, and my stomach rolled as I repeated the words. “I hate you so much it makes me want to scream. I hate how you just showed up at my place after all this time, with no rhyme and no reason. I hate that you walked in as if we could just be the people we were before and fall back into some normal conversation. And mostly I hate you because it was the only way I was able to stop the aching in my chest from the pain you caused me.”

“Shay—”

“Don’t.” I shook my head, feeling the whiskey coursing through my system. “Don’t do that. Don’t say my name like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like it still belongs on your tongue. I worked hard to get over you, Landon. I worked hard to get over the hurt you caused me, the heartache you created. So, excuse me if I don’t feel as if we can have anything more than friendly conversation. Excuse me if I was trying really hard to keep things casual with sarcasm and lightness, but I’m drunk now, and emotional, and I can’t really be near you like this, because my mind doesn’t know how to be drunk and near you. My mind is betraying me and making me think I want to talk to you, get some answers… hold you, hug you, ask how you’ve been, and I can’t do that. I can’t open that door, because I hate you. I have to hate you, Landon,” I said, my voice low and shaky.

“Why?”

“Because if I don’t, you’ll be able to break me all over again.”

“Shay,” he pleaded, moving in closer. I kept backing up until I bumped into a wall, and he boxed me in. The heat of his body pooled around mine, and I tried to ignore the thumping of my heart pounding against my chest.

There it was—the fireworks, the angst, the indescribable feeling Landon always unleashed in me. The yin and yang emotions he’d been able to build up inside of me confused me so much. I wanted to push him away while pulling him in closer. I wanted to slap him and let my fingers linger against his skin. I wanted to kiss him. Gosh, I wanted to kiss his full lips that were only inches away from me, breathing their hot breaths against me, his Cupid’s bow so perfectly shaped, so perfectly full, so perfectly…

No.

“Hear me out, Shay. I’m not that same boy I was when I left you all those years ago. I’ve done a lot of work on myself. I’ve finally figured out a lot of my mind’s triggers, and I know how to get around them. I found me, Shay. Fully, completely, I found myself.”

“I know that,” I agreed. “But you never came back.‘When you find you, come back to me.’Remember? Or did fame make you forget?”

He lowered his head. “I remember, but if you let me explain.”

“I don’t care,” I lied, because I had to lie. It was the only way I could keep from allowing myself to completely melt into him. The truth was, I did care. A big part of me loved hearing that he’d figured it out, that he’d found his way, that he was okay. A bigger part of me craved the answers I’d never received from him on why he never came back.

But another part was still aching from the way he’d broken me. On his way to self-discovery, he took a sledgehammer to my heart, and now he stood over me as if he was expecting me to give him my all.

There was no way I’d do that again.

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