Page 125 of When Fate Breaks
Whatever it is. Or isn’t.
Through the absolute utter heartbreak and shame, I still open Blake’s contact the second my phone powers on. My finger hovers over the call button, but something makes me hesitate. I stare at it for a long moment, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip. I have to do this. I have to call him. I lower my thumb to the screen–
“Oh, don’t worry about it.”
My eyes snap up to the television, immediately recognizing a voice from a movie I’ve watched over a dozen times throughout my life.
“As soon as you step outside that door, you’ll start feeling better.”
No. Freaking. Way.
“You’ll remember you don’t believe in any of this fate crap.”
My phone falls from my hand, a fresh wave of tears bursting from my eyes.
“You’re in control of your own life.”
I collapse on to the bed grappling for the TV remote tangled within the sheets.
“Remember?”
I shut the TV off,The Matrixfading from view.
I’m frozen in place, no part of me moving other than the tears streaming down my face.
I’m in control of my own life. I always knew that.
But so is Blake.
And he made his decision.
I stay in that position, wet clothes and all, staring at the ceiling. I keep my eyes focused on the fan blades spinning in circles, exhausted in every sense of the word but not willing to let myself fall asleep, knowing that, when I wake up tomorrow, nothing will ever be the same again. I fight it for as long as I can.
Eventually, I lose.
25
PRESENT DAY
The sounds of glasses and bottles clinking around me are drowned out by the whirring in my ears. My body is rigid as I slowly lift my gaze to where Blake stands. His eyes are wide and cold, his lips pressed into a thin line. He raises one arm, his hand rubbing roughly at his chest and the back of his neck.
As I continue to stare at him, lips parted, a waiter walking around with a tray of champagne glasses stops beside Blake, clearly asking him if he’d like one. Blake never even looks at the waiter, his eyes still on mine as his hand shoots straight for one of the glasses. His reach seems to involuntarily freeze halfway, however, his hand balling into a fist and pulling back to drop at his side. He seems to mutter something along the lines ofnevermind, and the waiter continues on his way. I swallow hard.
He only drinks anymore when he doesn’t feel like he has to.
At a sudden pat on my shoulder, I turn to see Remy standing just behind me. He simply raises his beer bottle in the direction of my non-existent one before planting a quick kiss on my forehead and stepping away to cheers with his father and friends before I have time to say or do anything. I tell myself I should follow after him, but can’t, my body automatically spinning back around to where Blake is–
Was.
He’s gone. The spot where he just stood is vacant, cold absence replacing the blistering heat of his former presence. Something catches my eye and I glance up, seeing the back door leading outside swinging closed.
My feet are moving before I even register the choice to make them do so. The party continues around me, but it’s like I’m not even here, existing only in a bubble of my own confusion and queasiness, the limited contents in my stomach feeling as if they could make a reappearance at any moment. I try to force myself to take a turn and head for the bathroom, but I’m not in control of my body at the moment.
Air.
I need air.
I burst out of the old wooden door and down the porch stairs, not realizing that my walk had turned into a jog until the warm night wind whips across my face. I only make it a few steps out of the building and onto the lawn until my body crumples, my hands going to my knees as I breathe deeply and evenly, trying to get my heart rate under control. Aside from the muffled sounds of the party inside and the buzzing of the cicadas in the trees, the night is entirely silent, my gasps the only thing interrupting the serenity.
