“And this is one of those times,” I said, already knowing.
“Yeah,” she sighed, leaning her head against my shoulder. “I just needed some us time, Austin. I’ll be better in the morning.”
“I’m always here for you,” I muttered, resting my chin lightly against the top of her head. She took another deep breath, and I felt the tension in her body loosen, just slightly.
“Except,” she added, shifting, “I’ve been sitting in this gigantic house alone for two hours. You know it feels like no one actually lives here, right?” She lifted her head to look at me. “For an eighteen-year-old guy who basically lives alone, you’re disgustingly neat.”
“Most people are neat compared to you,” I said, thinking about the weekend she’d forced Zane and me to help clean her room.
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” She turned toward me then, reaching up to push my chin away from her shoulder. “Now let’s talk about why you look like shit.”
“Don’t I always?” I tried, leaning into the self-deprecating humor she usually loved.
“Yeah,” she said, raising an eyebrow, “but tonight more than usual. Tell me.”
I let out a slow breath through my nose, choosing my words carefully. “I don’t think it’s going to work out between me and Yellow.”
She moved away from me like I’d burned her. Her body shifted sharply, her eyes scanning my face in disbelief before the confusion melted into shock.
“What?” she blurted. “Why? She’s all you’ve talked about for a week. Did she not like the waterfall? Did she not like the fireworks? Did you smoke in front of her? I told you not to smoke in front of her.” She paused for half a second before continuing. “Did she think the rose was corny? It was kind of corny, Austin. Damn it. I knew I should’ve talked you out of the rose at her doorstep. Did she—”
“Seren, love, take a breath for me,” I cut her off, genuinely wondering if she was going to run out of air before the words did.
She stopped, her chest rising and falling once before she tilted her head at me, studying my face. “What happened?” she asked. “Tell me.”
“It’s just…” I faltered, already hating the way the words felt in my mouth. “I don’t think I’m good for her.”
My stomach dropped as I said it, like my body was begging me to take it back before it could do any real damage.
“Why?” Seren’s lips pulled into a slight scowl. “And don’t bullshit me.”
I held her gaze, neither of us looking away. “We’re from different worlds.”
“Says who?” she shot back, crossing her arms.
“Says me.” I shrugged, even though nothing about this felt casual. “Listen. It’s like… let’s say you met Zane after everything. After Jax.” Her face flinched at the name, just barely. She masked it fast, but I saw it. “After the pills,” I continued quietly. “After the alcohol. After the weed. After the attempt. After all of it.” Seren opened her mouth, then closed it again. So I kept going. “Let’s say you met Zane tomorrow. He knows nothing about your past. Nothing about what happened to you or the things you did to survive it. Do you think you could let him love you without knowing those things?”
“Who says I wouldn’t tell him?” she asked, but her voice lacked conviction.
“Would you?”
She went quiet. “I don’t know,” she admitted after a moment. The silence stretched between us. “Do you want to know what I think?” I nodded. “I think Zane and I are soulmates,” she said simply. “I think our souls were always going to find each other. If we met now, or ten years from now, we’d still end up together.”
“You believe in that shit?” I asked, unable to hide my surprise.
“I never did,” she murmured. “Before Zane.”
My chest tightened. “I don’t know.”
“You can’t understand it until you feel it,” she said. “I can’t explain it. It just feels… inevitable. Me and Zane—we were inevitable.”
“Maybe,” I shrugged, though I could see it clearly now. They were magnets. It took time, but there was never another ending for them.
“So what are you actually scared of Blair finding out?” Seren asked gently. “That you sold drugs? You don’t anymore. It’s in the past. You’re not lying to her. You’re not using her. You’re not trying to hurt her.” She shook her head. “You like her. You, Austin Portwood, actually like a girl for more than what she can give you. Do you really think that doesn’t matter?”
“Listen,” she said, softer now, like she was choosing each word carefully. “Not telling someone everything on day one isn’t lying. It’s just… not unloading every wound you’ve ever carried onto a person you barely know.”
She looked at me steadily. “Lying is when you say something that isn’t true. You haven’t done that. You’re not pretending to be someone else. You’re not still doing it. You’re not pulling her into that world.” She paused. “Everyone gets to decide when their past is relevant. That doesn’t make you a bad person. It makes you human.”
