Page 13 of After Our Kiss

Chelsea parked herself on the arm of the couch. “Well, tonight my dear Georgia-Bear, everyone...” She knocked the pillow off so I could see her giant grin. “Is going to see you in it and fall to pieces.”

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The white dress clung to my curves. Even with all the running I did, it was a struggle to keep off the extra padding my eating habits created. Chelsea had once promised me—after she'd walked in on me elbow deep in bags of chips—that she knewtheperfect diet.

I never bothered to explain to my friend that I didn't care if I was thin or not. Vanity couldn't have fit inside my issue-packed brain if it tried. Eating wasn't a compulsion. I did it by choice. I did it withglee.

After living multiple months with someone controlling what I ate, I appreciated being able to walk over to my cupboard and pull out whatever the hell I wanted. If living my life to the fullest meant getting soft around my edges, so what? Squishy puppies are incredibly popular on Instagram for a reason.

Chelsea parked her car next to a meter. “Sorry, we have to walk a little. There'll benostreet parking left around the party at this hour.”

“It's okay, I don't mind.” She'd tried to make we wear heels, but I'd drawn the line and slipped on my favorite pearl colored flats. Traveling wouldn't be painful. For me, anyway. She'd picked out some ankle-breaking gold stilettos for herself.

At the top of the sidewalk was a small electronics store, the front window full of televisions playing different channels. We were waiting for the light to turn green when I heard a snippet from the news station. “...Police believe they've found their prime suspect responsible for the abduction of multiple women.”

Unsettled by how close to home that hit, I turned to watch. It was only a bit of grainy footage. It showed a broad shouldered man ducking into a white van outside of a gas station. His dark eyes were uncomfortably familiar.It can't be him. Impossible.The video was too brief to be certain.

Then they flashed another shot, zooming in.

Nine years had done a number on Conway. The boy was now a man, his cheeks hollowed like a male model's, but his neck was thick, his arms too muscular to work a runway. He wasn't moving on the screen, but as he stared back at me, I imagined his serious face lighting up in a smile. I imagined our secret kiss in the dark.

The news anchor—a blonde woman in a red jacket—said, “This video is all we have of the suspicious man. Police Chief Markus is asking anyone with info to please come forward to identify him. If you see—”

“Is something wrong?”

I snapped my attention back to Chelsea. “It's just... this stuff on the TV.”

She squinted at the screen, making a face. “Everything on the news these days is gross. Come on, we're supposed to be helping you loosen up, andthis,”she jerked her thumb at the host chatting away, “this is just going to make you miserable.”

It's not like she's wrong,I thought.Besides, what do I even say? “Hey, this suspicious man the police are looking for? He's the boy who saved my life! How weird, huh? Think he's single?”

Chelsea knew nothing about my kidnapping. My therapist had done a good job convincing me to talk to people about what I'd been through. She meant well, but when the first guy I'd tried seriously dating had listened to my tale, gone sickly green, then never called me again... I'd stopped bothering to let anyone into that part of my life.

I wished I could block myself away from it.

With a nervous look back at the store, I followed my friend down the street. My thoughts were still back in front of the televisions.Conway is actually alive.That thrilled me—I'd spent years wondering about him.

The police had never arrested his father, and no one could find head or tail of his boys. They hadn't even been able to find the body of the girl I'd stated again and again Facile had murdered. Iknewit was true! Conway wouldn't lie about that!

But they'd dug up nothing.

No body.

No kidnapper.

Nothing but an empty house and a bed covered in straps in the basement. They believed me, but that didn't help me feel safe. I was part of an open case that everyone had forgotten about. Everyone but me.

“Come on,” Chelsea laughed. “This guy throws the best parties.” The house at the end of the street was two floors of lights and blaring music. People hooted on the grass out front, red solo cups abundant in every hand. I felt like an alien.

Wandering around after my friend, I began to regret my attempt at this whole “being social” thing. Did I reallyneedto make new friends or meet guys? What was wrong with being single? I could get some cats, or a cute dog, and spend my days traveling.

I could watch Netflix on my couch while ordering from Yelp more than once a day.

That sounded amazing, actually.

“Oh!” Chelsea gushed, giving me a shove. “That's Cody Masters, he's down here from Silicon Valley. He's got astartup!”

I couldn'tnotroll my eyes. “Chelsea, that's...” She stared at me pointedly. “...fun! So, so fun. Go say hello.”

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