Page 55 of Poison Aches

Acting like I’m not traumatized and drowning in guilt over what happened many years ago when my grandfather died instead of me.

Learning to ignore the sting of never being asked out on a date.

Attempting to ignore the fact that I’ve never been kissed before, let alone that I’m still a virgin, albeit one that shamefully owns a brand-new vibrator that’s still in its packaging in the deepest corner of my closet.

If you want nothing, you’ll never lose anything.

It’s lonely, I know, but no hurt is far better than putting yourself out there and still getting rejected. Which is something I’ve done, so I’m not talking out my ass here.

“Ivy!”

“What?” I realize then that my brother is staring at me with that look on his face. “I spaced out again, didn’t I?”

“And here I thought you had that under control lately.”

“I do!” He stares at me silently. “I really do have it under control. I don’t have time to zone off into my imaginary worlds.”

“Then what was that?”

“I was just hating you.”

“Listen, Ivy.” He blows a breath. “I’m only looking out for you with this. Stay away from New York City.”

I immediately look up at him. “You don’t get to just order me around and not tell me the reason.”

“Is the reason more important than my concern for you?” he counters.

“Concern?” I scoff. “The moment I mentioned New York City you immediately vetoed it as if this is your choice but guess what Samuel, it’s not up to you! It’s up to me!”

“Damn it, Ivy, just listen to me!” he says in a terse voice that he hardly uses.

“Tell me why!” I demand, staring at him, but he just falls silent, his lips pressing together in an unhappy line.

I frown.

I already know why he’s been dodging this, which is what’s been really eating at me.

If Samuel already knows about who’s in NYC, how long has he known and not told me?

But beyond that, what else is he keeping to himself? I doubt Grammy even knows.

“It’s a dangerous city!” he says.

“Because LA is a safe haven.”

“This town—bless its bougie, ridiculously expensive culture—is not the same as New York,” he says. “Don’t be a smart-ass.”

“Seeing as I’ll be a New Yorker soon, I might as well polish up on my snarky attitude then.”

Samuel blows a frustrated breath.

“You’re not going to New York City,” he says as if it’s a settled matter.

“Sure,” I mutter, rolling my eyes.

“Jesus, Ivy, why are you being stubborn about this?” he demands, eyes narrowed at me. “You’ve never really cared about New York.”

That’s because since the time we ran from this town, he's been actively dissuading me from that city. But now, after finding out what I know now, it’s clear Samuel was doing it on purpose.

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