My head is swimming with the alcohol I don’t usually drink, and I cross the parking lot to come out on the road on the other side. I’m panting, my heart rate is still up from that kiss, and I want to find somewhere that I can curl up into a ball and never show my face again.
At the very least, Kennedy doesn’t know where I live, so once I’m home, I won’t have to face him.
I almost stop running at that stray thought.
Before Kennedy, I knew I was missing something in my life. I could feel it, like the misplaced haze of a dream where you’re in one place when you know you’re supposed to be in another. I didn’t know what it was that I was missing, but now that I’ve met Kennedy, everything I thought I liked about my life is empty.
Why did I have to go and kiss him?
This is why I hate leaving Wilde’s End. There’s nothing in the outside world except for big, scary chaos, and now I’ve created the biggest and scariest chaos of them all.
No surprise for someone who can never do anything right.
All my life, I’ve been the screwup. Even when I was working with Dad and becoming a qualified electrician, I was too scaredto do anything in case I made a mistake. Which led to makingmoremistakes. The anxiety gets so consuming it’s like it takes over my body. I can’t move right, I can’t talk right, and when I force myself through the things my body doesn’t want to do, it rebels against me.
I’ve learned to stop fighting it, but tonight …
I don’t know what that was.
My hands are shaking, and it’s hard to tell if my face is wet from the rain or if I’ve finally given in to the urge to cry. I’m not a crier—it’s too loud and has never gotten me anywhere in life—but the pressure behind my eyes is quickly winning out.
Why do I ruin everything?
The best I can do is crawl back into my cave and stay away from the outside world.
It’s stupid of me to want more. To think that I can interact with someone like Kennedy and have it turn out okay.
Instead, I’m poisoning him. Turning his laughter into worry. His friendliness into solitude. That big, open heart is shrinking down to fit the tiny world I’ve created for myself. I should feel terrible that I’m dimming his light, but all I selfishly want is for that light to keep shining on me.
Sometimes, when I’m with Kennedy, I feel like a whole person again.
He makes me feel seen, and now that I’ve had that, I don’t want to let go of it again.
If I really cared about him like I claim to, it would be easy to walk away.
Selfish.
Pathetic.
Needy.
Turns out my parents were right. I do only care about myself.
The sound of tires slowing on a wet road comes from behind me as headlights fill the street. I’m scared to look, but after amoment, the car pulls into sight, and Kennedy’s voice sounds through the rain.
“Ziggy, get in the car.”
I keep walking.
“Dammit, Ziggy, you don’t get to kiss me like that and then disappear. Get in the fucking car.”
I freeze at his tone. Kennedy’s never used that voice with me before, and when I get the courage to peer in at him, rage is written all over his face.
I’m stiff as I reach out and click open the door. Rain has come in on the passenger-side seat, so I’m not worried about dripping all over the leather as I climb in. Kennedy puts up the window from his side, and then I sit and wait for him to either keep driving or to yell at me.
He doesn’t do either.
“Shit, you worried me. Why the hell did you run off like that?”
