Page 28 of Creeping Lily
I fold my napkin, setting it neatly on the table. “Excuse me,” I murmur, pushing my chair back. “Bathroom.”
But I don’t turn toward the hallway. I head for the front door instead, slipping outside into the night.
The air hits cold and sharp, slicing through the stale heaviness clinging to my skin. I lean against the brick wall, arms folded, breathing in the tang of salt and sea carried on the wind. Out here, the noise of the restaurant fades to a muffled hum, laughter reduced to an echo.
It’s quieter—but not in my head.
I tell myself I don’t care what Wendolyn thinks, that her words shouldn’t matter. But they stick anyway, finding the cracksin my armor and pressing until they hurt. Maybe because she’s not wrong about me feeling out of place here.
These people—Bethany’s people—move through life like the world belongs to them. Money, charm, the right last names. They speak a language I was never taught, one built on entitlement and sharp smiles. I’m just… orbiting their world.
And the truth is, I’m not sure I’ll ever fit into it.
The breeze carries the smell of grilled fish from the kitchen vents, mingling with the salt air. I close my eyes, pretending for a moment I’m somewhere else. Somewhere no one’s watching, judging, waiting for me to slip.
I came out here to breathe. But all I can think about is how heavy it feels to want to belong—and how much it scares me that maybe I never will.
The sharp rhythm of heels cuts through the night air, fast and purposeful. I don’t need to turn to know it’s Bethany—I’ve heard that stride a hundred times, each step like punctuation to whatever storm she’s carrying. Still, I glance over my shoulder.
She’s there, framed in the warm spill of light from the restaurant doorway. Hands shoved deep into the pockets of her tailored coat, shoulders squared, jaw set like she’s seconds from declaring war. Her eyes flick over me, scanning for damage, the way you’d check a friend after a fight.
Bethany’s beautiful, but in moments like this, there’s something almost dangerous about her. She’s sharp as a blade, and right now, that blade is drawn.
“God, she’s insufferable,” she mutters, voice low but edged with steel. The kind of steel she saves for people who’ve crossed her—or worse, crossed me.
Bethany is many things—sharp, stubborn, a little too fond of her own way—but above all else, she’s protective. Sometimes fiercely. Sometimes recklessly. And tonight, that protectiveness hums off her like static, ready to strike at the next spark.
“I’m fine,” I say automatically, though we both know I’m not.
Bethany’s eyes narrow like she can see right through the lie. “You’re not fine. She’s a jealous little parasite, and I should’ve cut her out the second Marshall suggested bringing her along.”
“She’s just… being Wendy,” I say, trying to sound casual.
Bethany steps closer, her perfume wrapping around me like something expensive and familiar. “No, Lily. She was being cruel.You don’t deserve that.”
The words make my throat tighten. I glance away, toward the black ripple of the bay, pretending to be interested in the light breaking across the water. Anything to keep from unraveling under her gaze.
Inside, laughter spikes again, muffled by the closed door. I can imagine Wendolyn’s voice in the middle of it, smug and self-satisfied, filling the space I just vacated. The thought twists in my chest.
“I didn’t want to be here in the first place,” I admit quietly. “I don’t… fit.”
Bethany exhales hard through her nose, like that confession annoys her more than Wendy ever could. “You fit where you decide to fit. You let her make you feel small, and she wins.”
I let my eyes drop to the sidewalk. The truth is, this is exactly why I’d stayed in my dorm earlier—because belonging always feels like a fight I don’t have the energy for. Around people like Wendolyn, the rules are different. The ground is tilted. And no matter what I do, it’s never enough.
Bethany steps closer, her voice softer now, though no less fierce. “Don’t you dare give her that power.”
“I just needed air,” I tell her. It’s not a lie, but it’s not the whole truth either.
Her mouth presses into a thin line, but she doesn’t push. That’s the thing about Bethany—she’ll fight for me even when I’m not ready to fight for myself.
“Come back in when you’re ready,” she says, lingering for a moment before finally turning back toward the door. Her heels tap a sharper rhythm this time, each step like a vow.
I watch her go, then tilt my head toward the water again, my breath ghosting in the cold night air. Alone, I can finally let the question roll over me like tidewater—whether I’ll ever find a place where I don’t have to fight so damn hard just to belong.
14
TITAN
