She says I’m keeping myself closed off on purpose. She’s not wrong. It’s not about trust, though. It’s that I miss them. Axel. Nik. And even Johnny, on the rare days when I forget how much he destroyed me.
I know how pitiful it sounds, clinging to ghosts, but it’s hard to move forward when the people you loved are still tangled in your psyche. Still, I can’t keep waiting for the past to come back. Maybe letting someone new in is the first step toward letting go.
Decision made, I straighten my skirt and cross the street. My black pleated maxi flutters around my ankles, and of course, I immediately trip in my heels.
Typical.
Catching my reflection in the glass, I adjust my red top, fluff my curls, and tuck a stray strand behind my ear. The hostess smiles when I enter.
“Meeting someone?”
“Yes—” I spot him before I can ask. He’s in the back corner booth, already standing.
He smiles when I approach. “Hey. You look beautiful.”
He leans in and kisses my cheek. I blush.
“Thanks. You look nice, too.”
He does. Crisp button-down, khakis, a blazer. The kind of outfit that says I care, without trying too hard.
We sit, and a waitress arrives to take my drink order. He’s already sipping what looks like whiskey. I stick with Coke. I’m only nineteen, and Athens’s restaurants are stricter than their bars. Later, I could probably get into anywhere I wanted. But I won’t.
We make small talk over the menu. I pray he plans to pay, because these prices are… ridiculous. He orders a sixty-dollar steak. I go with chicken. Still steep, but slightly less soul-crushing.
I met Holsten in Political Science earlier this semester. He’s from a wealthy family and in some fraternity I already forgot the name of. On paper, he’s not my type, but he surprised me. He’s kind, thoughtful, and easy to talk to. When he asked me out, I said yes. Half for Dr. Grant. Half for me.
Making friends hasn’t been easy. Lying all the time is exhausting. One wrong story, one missed detail, and it all unravels. So, I keep to myself.School. Work. Therapy. My holy trinity of survival.
By the time our food arrives, I’ve relaxed. Holsten’s surprisingly funny. Smart, but not smug. The kind of guy you can talk to without wanting to scream.
After dinner, he insists on paying. Thank God.
We decide to take a walk together, away from the crowds. We pass under the infamous UGA Arch and head down toward my favorite courtyard. The air has cooled, brushing over my skin and making me shiver. Holsten, ever the gentleman, offers me his jacket. Gratefully, I accept.
We find a tree and sit beneath it. I kick off my heels. He says something that makes me laugh, and when I look at him, he’s staring at me like he’s never seen me before.
He’s objectively handsome with his dark hair, blue eyes, and a jawline that belongs on TV. The kind of guy who probably gets A’s just for smiling at his professors.
Then, he leans in.
My heart jumps. My brain says no, but something in me, something tired of being alone, says give it a chance.
I haven’t felt chemistry with Holsten before. No sparks. No fire.
But when his lips brush mine? There it is. A flicker.
When his tongue slides in? It catches.
And when he tugs me closer by the nape of my neck? It burns.
Damn it.
Dr. Grant was right.
∞∞∞
2 months later…
