Page 106 of Redemption
Nodding, I remain quiet. Words spoken in anger are words you regret. I’m already regretting how I spoke to Silas, so I choose not to make it worse.
“So,” Silas says, changing the topic with a wicked grin. Red alarms sound in my head, warning me to run, “How about that kiss with your girl.”
Groaning, I let my head fall back against the cabinet.
I should have run.
Chapter 32
Mallorie Jade
20 years old
Freedom.
That’s what I’ve earned these last two years of college.
My parents tried to control what I majored in and what I would do with the rest of my life, but with enough scholarships to cover my classes, books, and dorm, they didn’t have anything to dangle over my head, forcing me to do as they said.
The cold winter air burns in my lungs as I walk across campus.
It’s my sophomore year, and I almost have all my prerequisites completed. I’m undecided in my major, but I’ll need to decide soon. It’s just that freedom means choices for the first time in my life, and there are so many choices.
But despite the fact that I can do anything—be anyone—I’ll have to decide by the end of this semester. The pressure is on, but I won’t crumble under it.
“MJ,” a voice calls from the other side of the street.
It’s the voice I hear even in my dreams.
Is it possible to be in love with a voice? Because if it is, I’ve been in love with Hayes’s voice since I was fifteen—probably longer, but it doesn’t matter because he broke my heart—even ifwe are friends now—sort of, mainly for Langston’s sake, or at least that’s what I’m telling myself.
Langston is still drinking. We’ve tried to talk to him on the rare times we find him sober, but he claims he’s fine—that he’s sowing his wild oats. It’s the one thing that’s stopped me from demanding he find help. He deserves to find himself, just like I did. And if partying is how he needs to do it, then I guess I’ll pick him up every time he’s drunk.
Besides, it’s not like he’s the only kid that drinks at school. We’re at college—a lot of the kids party.
With a lull in traffic, Hayes sprints across the road, catching up to me as I walk to class.
“I’m pretty sure jaywalking is illegal,” I grumble so that I have something to do besides stare at how his muscles bulge in the university long-sleeve shirt he’s wearing.
“You going to turn me in, Little Harrison?”
I shrug. “Maybe. It might knock your ego down a few pegs.”
His arm wraps around my shoulders, and his laughter reverberates against my ribs as he pulls me in close to him. My nose is shoved into the fabric of his shirt as he hugs me tight with one arm, and the scent of his cologne takes over my senses. I take a deep breath, hoping he doesn’t realize that I’m basically sniffing him. I can’t help it. He’s intoxicating, and somewhere along the way, I become addicted.
Chuckling, he says, “I’ve missed your sass.”
“You see me every week,” I say, pulling out of his hold so I don’t do something stupid like let him hold my broken pieces together.
Been there, done that, left more shattered than when I started.
“Yeah, but it’s not every day.”
I don’t know what to say to that because to respond would mean letting myself be vulnerable with him again, and that’s not an option. So I stay quiet, walking with him by my side.
“We have a game this weekend. Come to it.” It’s not a question but more of a plea.
“No.”
