But there was nothing I could’ve done. Ella made her decision, just as his mom made hers.
It’s still your fault,a voice in my head whispers.
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Sometimes we mistake helplessness for guilt. It’s not your fault.”
He sighs, leaning his head back against the wall. Neither of us add anything more to it. We both know what loss is, and we both know what it means not to say goodbye.
But if I had the chance to right my wrongs, and tell Ella all the things I should’ve said, I’d take it.
“Your turn,” Lynx says, breaking the tension around us.
I take a deep breath and consider what I’m willing to share without showing him too much of my history.
“I used to want to be a painter just because it was the career that would piss off my parents the most,” I start. “During the summer, when everyone was asleep, there was a tree over there that I would climb up to sleep in.” I point toward the forest.
A squirrel called it home, and I was convinced it was my friend because I was Snow White or something.
I stopped going when I fell out of it and dislocated my shoulder. Six-year-old me was heartbroken that my squirrel pal didn’t save me or wake me up before I fell. I think I was more upset by that fact than the endless hours of my parents’ rage I had to endure, and the days I spent locked in my room, only allowed out for school and bathroom breaks.
“One year at camp, I strayed from the group because one of the kids upset me, and I went missing for about two days,” I finish.
Lynx mulls over the options then glances down at me. “I can’t imagine you as a painter.”
“Neither could I, but I wanted to do it anyway.” I chuckle. “I never went missing. However, there was a kid who upset me, so I punched him and got sent home two days early. I ended up losing my virginity to that same guy under the bleachers, then made out with his brother in front of him at prom when he told everyone he thought my sister was hotter.”
Darkness falls over his eyes as he stiffens against me. The shadows in his jaw flicker with each grind of his molars. Yet he doesn’t add anything.
The same uneasy feeling settles in my chest like every other time I’ve said something wrong in my life. It’s the prickle of anxiety before knowing I’m about to face the consequences of something I didn’t realize would be bad.
“When I was eight, I broke my thumb punching one of the other boys we lived with,” he says, changing the subject as if he’s sensed what I’m thinking. “There was a theater close to the rich side of town that had a poorly guarded back entrance. Before my mother was always sick, I’d sneak inside and listen to the shows from beneath the stage. And I…” The long pause makes me sit up straighter to give him my full attention. “I’ve never kissed anyone.”
I bark a laugh that ends in a wince as I clutch my stomach. “If you’re going to throw in a lie, at least make it believable.” I roll my eyes, grinning up at him as his glare turns murderous. “Obviously the last one is a lie. You don’t go around fucking people the way you do without ever kissing someone.”
Except he doesn’t stop glaring at me, and beneath the moonlight, I can just make out the color splotching his cheeks.The furrowing in his brows and the venom in his eyes isn’t like all the other times he’s been pissed off at me.
He seems… embarrassed.
My gaze falls to his lips, and mine part on a gasp. “Shit. You’re serious?” I blink up at him in disbelief. “How?”
“This game was a waste of time.”
My upper body almost hits the ground with how quickly he pulls away and storms toward the French doors without so much as a glance at me.
“Wait. No. Lynx. Stop.” I scramble to my feet, cringing at the pain. “Truth or dare?” My voice comes out breathless both from pain and desperation. Either way, he stops, keeping his back to me and his head angled to the side.
“I’m not playing another one of your stupid games,” he spits.
“Just pick,” I insist. My hands tremble. I don’t know what I’m doing or what I’m going to say, but at the same time, I do. I know what I want. “A truth or a dare?”
“Neither.” He turns to face me, staring me down like I’m the last person he wants to be around. Yet he still doesn’t leave.
“Lynx,” I plead, taking a hesitant step forward, my gaze dropping to his lips before moving back up. “What are you afraid of?”
Indecision flashes across his face. For a moment, I think he’s going to turn away and leave me alone out here. But his answer makes my lungs stop working.
“Dare.”
I breathe heavily. We can never go back from what I say next.
