Page 79 of The Sun
“I do. And she really cares about you. That’s the only reason I’m telling you. I just hope I can trust you.”
Jesus, I felt guilty. I felt like a complete shithead for hating him when he obviously loved her. Stepping toward him, I rested my hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about me. I’ve got your back. And my lips are sealed.”
“Appreciate that, man.” His expression tightened before he turned toward his car.
The interior light cut on, and I caught a small wave before he settled behind the wheel and cranked the engine.
Damn, that girl’s heart was pure gold. And so was his.
24
Sunny
Ilaid in bed that night listening to “The God of Wine” on repeat, staring at my ceiling and thinking about Elias and Brandon. At some point, I started to wonder why, at the age of seventeen, my life was already such a mess.
I had been dumped by my pretend boyfriend who was dating a guy, and I was in love with a boy who my now pretend ex-boyfriend swore was in love with me, too, but I couldn’t see it.
The phone rang. Seconds later, Simon burst into my room with a toothy grin. “A boy’s on the phone for you.” Then he skirted back into the hall, his footfalls heavy on the stairs.
I grabbed the receiver. “Hello?”
“Hey.”
I swallowed at the sound of Elias’ voice, not near as cold or distant as it had been that afternoon. Part of me was hesitant, the other part curious. Hopelessly hopeful. “Hang on a sec.” I covered the receiver with my hand and shouted at Simon to hang up the line in the kitchen, then I waited for the click.
I twirled the phone cord around my finger, listening to Elias breathe for a second. “All right.”
“Have you ever,” A long breath rustled the line. “Have you ever loved someone who made an absolute ass outta himself because he didn’t know how to handle watching you with someone else?”
Thump. Thump. Thump-thump. My heart went out of rhythm.
“I talked to Brandon,” Elias said. “And he told me about Travis. About you.”
“Oh. . .”
“I don’t wanna do this over the phone. Can I come get you?”
“Yeah. Give me thirty minutes, and I’ll meet you at the end of the drive.”
Some teenagers geta thrill from sneaking out of their house. Me, on the other hand, I was mortified. My parents would kill me if they caught me, but at some point, growing up, I realized that while nine times out of ten my parents knew what was best for me, there was always the one time they would be wrong.
Elias was where they were utterly and eternally wrong.
Every pop and creak of the stairs caused me to pause, and the back door had never seemed to groan so loudly. I just knew the soft suction of it shutting must have woken someone, so I waited on the porch, my stilted breaths drowning out the chirp of the crickets and the eerie whoop of the owls.
Once I was certain the house was still asleep, I took off through the yard only slowing down when I reached the end of the driveway.
Elias’ truck was parked on the shoulder of the highway. Engine cut.
The interior light turned on when he opened his door and climbed out. I watched his silhouette move around the tailgate and lean against the side of the truck. I took several more steps, and then there we were, face to face on the side of the road.
He smelled like leather and spice and wind, and my heart—my heart felt like it wasn’t even in my chest.
“Hey.” I swallowed, shifting on my feet. There was so much hope in the silence because no words had yet been spoken. Our future was still to be determined so I could continue to imagine it ended with us instead of him and me.
“I’m sorry.” Two simple words that sometimes mean everything.
“Me too,” I said.
