Theo. Barnes and Noble. The park. It was slow and quiet and so different from anything I'd had in so long. When I just lay there and let him read to me, it was perfect. Then I kissed him.
My mind skips to Beckett’s kiss.
He was waiting at my place. He looked at me like he had truly missed me. If I had Cody and Beckett side by side, I would believe Beckett actually missed me. Cody just sees ownership.
Last night, I told Cody I was working this morning. I lied straight to his face the way I've been lying to his face for weeks now, the way I've gotten good at it because the alternative was this. I knew that if he knew the truth, he wouldn’t accept it.
But his hands.
He wasn’t gentle with me tonight, and instead of being horrified like I was when I was watching the videos of him, I was turned on. I shiver when I think about how much he’s claimed me and whispered,“You’re mine.”
I am his, and I always will be in some way.
I press my palms against my arms and try to generate heat that isn't there.
No phone. No shoes. No jacket.
Maybe I should have listened to him.
Maybe I should have just come out.
Maybe the version where I walk out to the car and let him drive me home ends better than this one.
Maybe he'll come back for me.
I pause. Should I turn around and wait for him?
And then headlights appear in the distance.
I don’t take another step. This is my chance.
The lights are coming faster than the other car, faster than seems right for this road, and for a moment I think it's Cody.
He came back for me.
I stand still, waiting as the lights keep traveling towards me.
It’s not Cody’s car, but that’s okay. I need this one to stop for me.
I raise my arms and wave them. Wide, overhead, unmistakable. I put everything I have into it — I need this car to see me, I need this to work, I need this person to stop.
The car slows.
Relief moves through me so fast it makes me dizzy.
But it doesn't stop completely.
It slows, and I watch it slow down. I'm already stepping toward it when I think I see hands in the windshield from the passenger seat. It’s not a wave hello, not the wave of someone glad to seeme. They’re waving me away, waving me out of the road. The driver is just a shadow.
I don't move.
The car keeps coming, slower now, rolling toward me, and I thinkthey'll stop, they have to stop, they can see me—
The scream tearing from my throat doesn't sound human.
Pain explodes through my body, hot and blinding, throwing me onto the pavement. Gravel cuts into my palms as I claw at the ground, trying to move, trying to breathe. I have to get out of here before they come back.
A car speeds away at the end of the street, taillights shrinking into the dark.
