Page 19 of The Best Kind of Forever
My confidence gutters. “Shit.”
I didn’t think I was gonna have to lie to her about it. I don’t know if I can. Aeris is a good person. She doesn’t deserve to be lied to. She’s already suffered through so much, and the last thing I’d want to do is add to her suffering. But then again, if I don’t switch this narrative around soon, I can say goodbye to my life with the Reapers when I get traded.
Bristol is just as stunned as I am, because he’s giving Kit awhat the hell?look.
Kit doesn’t seem fazed by either of our reactions. Then again, he’s not really the most empathetic person.
“I don’t know, Kit…” My heart presses painfully against my ribcage, threatening to burst outAlienstyle.
“You don’t have to, but if you really want to make this stunt believable, I’d keep my mouth shut.”
“I feel guilty for not being upfront with her.”
Disgust contorts Kit’s features. “Why? You just met her, right? You don’t owe her anything.”
“You don’t have feelings for her, do you?” Bristol probes, hoisting an eyebrow.
My stomach migrates to my throat. “I barely know her.”
It’s true: I don’t know Aeris that well. I guess I feel connected to her because we’re both familiar with death. But I can’t let that connection get in the way of everything I’ve worked so hard to attain—my career, my reputation. This is a means to an end. I’m not emotionally prepared to get hurt again, and I’d be damned if I let Aeris know she was the first girl in a while to have pierced the tiniest hole in my armor.
“Good. Feelings make stuff messy. Think of this like a business transaction. You dote on her in public, the fans go wild for this soft side of you, and you remake a name for yourself. They’ll forget all about how badly you’ve fucked up in the past. Now you have them rooting for you instead of praying for your downfall.”
My nerves scream at me to reconsider, probably wanting to grab me by the collar of my jersey and shake until some sense lodges itself into my brain. “What if things turn real?”
The crease in Bristol’s forehead deepens. “On your end or hers?”
“Both? I don’t know.”
“Then they become real,” Kit replies. “But if I know you, H—which I do—I know that’s the last thing you want right now.”
Kit’s words ring through me like alarm bells. I shouldn’t have even spoken that into existence. I won’t allow things to turn real. This is a fake relationship. Aeris will be my pretend girlfriend, and nothing more. I’ve dealt with plenty of girls during my time with the Reapers. I’ve trudged through heartbreak and revenge and the occasional attempted break-in. What’s a sweet little thing like Aeris going to do to me?
SOME SECRETS ARE BETTER LEFT HIDDEN
AERIS
Iswing my legs against the side of my pink comforter, my hands clawing for anything that can act as a stress ball. Lila, my best friend, has somehow convinced me to go with her to a hockey game tonight. I know jackshit about hockey. Roden was more interested in the arts, and the only sport my father watched religiously was football.
Lila and I have been best friends ever since my freshman year of college. We met at a house party that I’d been dragged to by my roommate—who wasn’t the nicest person, and who also used my hand towels to dry her vibrators without telling me.
After my roommate left me to fend for myself among upperclassmen, Lila found me like the unsuspecting mouse I was in a flock full of hungry hawks. She took me under her wing that night and introduced me to all of her friends, which was a welcome change from cowering in the corner and pretending to text on my phone.
I’m lucky to have found Lila. She’s helped me cope with my brother’s death and the estrangement from my parents. I don’t know where I’d be without her.
I’m used to Lila being able to ease my worries fairly quickly, but the more I think about Hayes’ curt departure and the fact that he hasn’t texted me back yet, the more it continues to nourish my unease.
She must’ve picked up on my tortured expression because her hands are on her hips and her head is tilted. “What’s up, Aer-Bear? You’ve been quiet this whole time,” she whines.
Anxiety beats like a second heart in my head, and my qualms express themselves through irregular breaths. “Remember that guy I mentioned to you?”
“The guy you tossed your cookies all over?”
“Yes…that guy…”
She minces over to her makeup vanity on wheels, picks up an eyeshadow palette, and lifts some of the charcoal powder onto my eyelids. “What about him, love?”
“I texted him, but I haven’t heard back from him yet.”
