Page 62 of Keep Me Never
So when Prescott offers me his hand, I take it.
Chase
It’s just one night. Just a casual thing. It doesn’t mean anything.
I repeat the words like a mantra, gripping on to them like they might actually save me here. Like they may keep me from doing something stupid.
I know better. I know what happens when I sit back and pretend something doesn’t matter—when I let myself believe that if I don’t touch it, don’t claim it, I can’t lose it.
But that’s a lie.
Because I’ve lost before.
I’ve stood right where I am now, convincing myself I didn’t care, that it wasn’t worth the risk—only to wake up and realize I let something slip away that I’ll never get back. I know the feeling of regret. I know the taste of it, bitter on my tongue, the way it rots in my gut, a slow, creeping sickness that never really goes away.
But what I know of the acidic emotion was never like this.
I thought I’d felt the heaviest of regret, but nothing has ever sunk its teeth into me like this. Nothing has ever made me feel like my whole fucking chest is caving in at the thought of someone else taking what should be mine. Because this isn’t just some mistake I can look back on and feel guilty about.
This isn’t just a girl I should have treated better or a friend I shouldn’t have let down.
This isher.
And I can’t lose her.
But do I evenhaveher to lose? I haven’t said anything. Haven’t made it clear. Maybe she’s just been waiting for me to do something, and I didn’t. Maybe that’s why she said yes.
It makes no fucking sense but I feel it, deep in my bones. This sort of rightness when she’s near. There’s no stress or worry about all the fucked-up things in my life. It’s just her and me. She makes me feel normal. Better.
Worth something.
When I’m with her, my mind doesn’t race with a million thoughts I can’t even make out. There is no pressure or fear. Only calm that settles like fresh mountain air, allowing me to just…breathe.
She is my air.
I swallow, my legs restless, my pulse an unsteady rhythm inmy veins as I stare at the entrance to the parking lot in front of her building like a fucking creep. My fingers twitch at my sides, the urge tomoveclawing at me.
She’s probably laughing at something he said right now.
That laugh.Herlaugh.
The soft one she does when something actually gets to her, when she’s in it instead of just being polite. I hear it in my head, clear as day.
I squeeze my eyes shut, but that only makes it worse.
Because now I see it, the way she tilts her head when intrigued. The way her eyes shine a brighter baby blue when something surprises her, when she’s caught up in a moment and doesn’t even realize how fuckingbeautifulshe looks. The way she bites her lip, trying not to let her little smile break free ’cause then you’d know she’s feeling what you are and she’s not sure you want that—that airy, almost flirty sensation.
And Prescott.
Leaning in.
Saying something low and effortless, something smart and charming that makes her tilt her head towardhim.
That makes her reach out and nudge him just for an excuse to feel him under her fingertips.
That makes her look at him the way she looks at me.
A sharp, burning pressure builds behind my ribs, pressing into my lungs, making it impossible to fucking breathe.
