A burning sensation pricks my eyelids. In a blink, the wildwood of Seth’s eyes quiets, shifting from agitation to a serene pasture, tender almost. “Maddie, no, please don’t—shit.” He brings his hand to my cheek, cradling it with his thumb, and wipes away a tear.
I lift my chin, a magnet drawing my lips ever closer to his.
“Go home, Seth,” I whisper before I do something stupid. “You’re not wanted here.”
“Of course, I’m not. I’m not wanted anywhere,” he mutters under his breath. He rubs the back of his neck, his green eyes still laser-focused on my face, before shaking his head and turning away. Pausing under the streetlight, he shoves his hands in his pocket and glances over his shoulder. “I’m sorry if I caused you any trouble tonight, Madeline. Believe me; it was unconsciously done.”
For some inexplicable reason, my fingers yearn to reach for him, but I huddle back into myself and shed a few more tears.
Ask him to stay.It nettles my entire being, an itch I can’t satisfy until I scratch it.
“Seth, wait.”
Again, his trek forward halts.
I could ask him to stay.
I could apologize for letting my anger out on him instead of pointing the finger inward where it belongs.
I could be a better person.
“The um—the pictures.”
His figure sags in the low light. “Already deleted. Don’t worry.”
“Oh. Okay. Thanks.”
“Was that all?”
My teeth bare down on my bottom lip, biting back the invitation dancing on my tongue. “Yeah. That was all.”
“Have a good night, Madeline,” he says tenderly as if he’s suddenly taken pity on me.
God, how pathetic must I look right now thathe’spitying me?
“Night, Captain Pretentious,” I say, trying to save face.
“Malibu Loki.” He raises a peace sign in the air with his continued strides away.
My falsies grow heavy as I slink to the bench. With a pinch of my fingers, I rip them off and toss them in a nearby trash can before plopping back down on the slatted wood.
And then, wrapped under a blanket of twinkling stars, I let the tears run.
“Didn’t know you could do that.” A high-pitched voice slices through the bleakness. I jump, glancing around to find the figure to match the sound. The lady from the bookstore stands a few feet away, shuffling through the trash can like a feral raccoon.
“I didn’t either,” I mutter, not making eye contact with her. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to find your eyelashes,” she says plainly as if picking through the trash for fake eyelashes is a totally sane thing. “Need them, I do.”
“They sell falsies for like $5.99 at Ulta if you want a pack. I highly recommend getting them fresh.”
“No, no, fresh won’t do. I need the tears! A-ha!” she exclaims, raising two dead-caterpillar-looking lashes to the night sky in triumph. “Silly girl, do you know what I can do with these?”
“No offense, but I’m glad I don’t.”
With a click of her tongue, her eyes roam over me. “Oh yes, you have a big heart without all that frost, don’t you? Put it in Jenny, of course, but she isn’t handling it well. Too much for her. Her heart was smaller than yours, which surprised me too. But I can’t just get rid of it. Oh, what a shame, though. You don’t seem to have any love for yourself. Yes, that’s where this all went wrong, isn’t it, dear?”
I shift on the bench. People have reminded me my entire life how much of a burden I am. Why would I dare believe anything else without a title telling me differently? “There’s not much to love.”
