Page 58 of Not Made to Last

He laughs at that but doesn’t deny it. “Did I mention I miss you?”

“Missmeor the head you taught me to give you?”

His throat moves with his swallow, his eyes softening on mine. “You, Liv.” And then he kisses me again, but it’s different this time. This kiss is slow. Delicate. Tender, almost. And just as I’m about to give in to him completely, he pulls away. “I missedyou,” he reiterates, then reaches around me to open the door.“Here.” He hands me my phone and a slip of paper and sends me on my way.

It takes a second for my eyes to adjust to the harsh hallway lights when I step out. Rhys remains in the closet, the door closed between us. I make it halfway to my locker before I get the nerve to look at the paper he’d handed me.

It’s a late pass with my name, for my next class, addressed to my specific teacher.

I pause in my tracks, look back at the empty hallway, wondering exactly how much power Rhys has at this school.

And how much that power can ruin me.

30

Olivia

We need to talk.

SG

I’m so sorry, Ollie. He didn’t tell me about his plans until it was too late.

You should have told me.

I know.

What am I supposed to do now?

Just wait, please. I’ll be in touch tomorrow.

I read over the text exchange from only minutes after I left Rhys in the storage closet. I’d snuck out my phone while Mr. Finn went over the syllabus for this semester’s English class, urgently searching for answers.

That was on Wednesday, and I’d waited all of Thursday for a response that never came. Now it’s Friday, and without clear directions on what to do or how to behave, I’ve spent the past few days doing what I thought I should do: avoid Rhys at all costs. But I can’t avoid him forever, and I can’t continue to live in this limbo.

That’s the problem with the silence I’m being forced into. It’s built and built, and now it’s so loud that it’s taken over all other sounds. All other thoughts. Now it’s nothing but fear—taking up every spare space of my mind, every inch of my body, and I can’t focus on anything else. Anything but the panic clawing its way out of me. Panic caused by one simple thought—that Rhys will learn the truth from someone else, which means he’ll only learn oftheirtruth. Not mine. And I guess that’s why I’m sitting idle in my car just outside his driveway hours after school let out, ready to bare it all. Ready to reveal the truth and take on whatever consequences come with it.

Besides, I’ve already lost Rhys once.

How hard could it be to lose him again?

31

Rhys

Liv’s copy of The Count of Monte Cristo lives on the nightstand on her side of my bed, and yes, I realize how insane it is that she has a side of the bed, especially considering how short-lived we were, but whatever.

I refuse to move it. Moving it means letting go, and as hard as it is to admit, I’m not there yet.

Even if she is.

I grab my phone off the nightstand next to her book and then pick up the open cardboard box by the foot of the bed. I snap a picture of the contents from multiple angles, then flip through them, trying to find the perfect one to send. The package had arrived a few days ago, but I wanted to take advantage of it first. Worth it. And, if I’m being honest, I don’t think I’d ever been so excited to receive something that wasn’t even mine. I select the picture I want to send, delete the rest, then open my messages, pausing momentarily when I notice the single unopened text from Mercedes that was sent over an hour ago.

Mercedes

How’s Colorado?

My stomach turns. Dips a little. But doesn’t drop completely. A year ago, Mercedes and I talked daily, sometimes non-stop. We were as close as two people in our situation could be. Yeah, we had our secrets, but she would’ve been the one I talked to about whether I should stay. At least, back then. Now, I don’t know what we are, and worse? I don’t know how to feel. I just know that I wasn’t the one who started pulling away from this…whatevership we’d formed over the past three years. She’d been such a constant in my life during those years, such aforce, such a saving grace more times than I can count, and maybe…

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