Page 51 of The Sun
I searched throughout the house, kicking empty cups and cans out of my way. Two guys carted Thomas’ unconscious body into the kitchen, snickering while they laid him across the table and folded his hands over his chest like a corpse in a coffin.
“Daisy?” I shouted, stepping in a pile of something that could have been puke. “God, I bet Thomas’ parents are going to freak out—Daisy?”
“Five minutes,” she called from upstairs.
“You guys could stay.” Brandon crossed the room, the schlepp of his shoes peeling from the sticky floor caused my skin to crawl.
“I think I’ll pass.”
He chuckled. “Suit yourself.”
Brandon collected some of the cans from the floor and placed them around Thomas like a chalk outline. The other guys joined in, surrounding Thomas with a teetering pyramid of Budweiser.
“Daisy?” I tapped my foot. “I’m going to the car. Come on!”
A door opened, and seconds later she appeared at the top of the stairs in nothing but Ben’s T-shirt and a gleeful smile. “I’m gonna stay.”
I deadpanned her.
“I’ll be fine. I texted mom and told her we were staying at your house instead.”
“Thanks for volunteering me to lie for you.”
“It’s what best friends are for, right?”
I shook my head, aware she was making a mistake—one she would most likely regret within a month, but I also knew when Daisy had her mind made up, it was a done deal. She’d be another notch on Ben’s belt, and I’d end up hating him for breaking my best friend’s heart.
With a sigh, I grabbed my keys from the counter. “Poor life choices, Daisy. Poor life choices.”
“Love you,” she sang before disappearing back into the room.
I waved at Brandon on my way out.
The single-note hum of the cicadas mixed with the gravel crunching beneath my feet in a weird Southern symphony. The sliver of a moon hung high in the sky, providing very little light. There’s something eerie about walking through an open field alone in the dark. Something that makes you feel incredibly vulnerable. My imagination ran wild, picturing a Michael Meyers-like figure stalking behind me, butcher knife raised and gleaming under the moonlight. By the time I reached the street, I was almost in a jog.
I was about three feet away from my car when I heard Elias call my name. All I could see was the glow of a burning cigarette moving through the air, washing his face in a faint, red light when he took a drag. He blew a stream of smoke through his lips, tossed the cigarette onto the asphalt, and stepped between me and my car.
“What are you doing?” I asked, my poor heart not sure whether to beat or stall.
“I don’t know.”
I stood there for a moment, watching him watch me. Wanting him to say something, anything that would make the desperate pain in my chest give up.
“You going home?” he asked, his words slurring just enough to tell me he was a little drunk.
“Yeah.”
“Alone?”
My jaw tensed. I could have said yes and left it at that, but every time he ignored me, it physically hurt and for some dumb reason, knowing I couldn’t have Elias made the love I harbored toward him root more deeply in my soul. I dug my fist into my hip. “Not that it’s any of your business, but yes.”
Stroking his hand over his jaw, he opened my car door and then stepped to the side like he was waiting for me to climb in so he could shut it. I hesitated, waiting for him to tell me not to go. Waiting for him to kiss me. Waiting for anything other than goodbye. “Did you need something?”
He took a deep breath, interlocking his hands behind his head and curling his elbows in toward his face, his eyes closed. “I don’t like you kissing him.”
My heart skipped critical beats, but I somehow managed to hold up my chin and push my shoulders back like I couldn’t have cared less. “Well, that’s too bad.” I went to climb into the driver’s seat, but he grabbed my arm. “Let go, Elias.”Please don’t let go.
“Do you love him?”
