“Don’t be an idiot,” I snap.
“Fine, good, no problem.I’d want to rejoin my friends too.I should have known.”
“You have no idea,” I snarl.“They’re my family, have beensince the juniors.Even if I did still want to be with them again, I’d have every right.Anyway, you’re one to talk, with your plan to get back to New York as soon as possible.”
“Maybe that would be wiser.”
His words shoot straight to my heart, even though I know he’s only saying them to hurt me.And two can play at that game.He should watch his back.“Run away, then.You’re good at that.”
Even in the dim light falling through the greenhouse glass, I see his eyes narrow.“Bite me, Henderson,” he snaps.
What are we doing here?This is ridiculous.We both know it, but I have to say that we’re pretty convincing.And suddenly I get scared.We don’t mean any of this, right?He knows I’m staying with him.And he doesn’t actually want to go back to America anymore.That’s true, isn’t it?
I’m not so sure of that as Colin shakes his head.His eyes rake over me, his face turns to stone.He digs his hands into his hoodie pocket and walks past me.
“Nice work, Olive.Amazing.”He laughs bitterly.“Well, happy birthday, then.Have a nice time with your buddies.”
Colin
OK, so we’re fighting.I hate it, but not as much as I hate the feeling that came over me when I heard what Olive and Tori were talking about.I don’t want to be irritating and controlling, but I also don’t want to get my heart broken again.But I’m slowly starting to feel scared that you can’t get close to anyone withouttaking that risk.It’s a dilemma that I haven’t found a solution to.Because staying cold and unfriendly is exhausting.
But so is this back and forth with Olive Garden.
I stomp through the cold, and somehow I’m hoping she follows me.But she doesn’t, and that makes me madder still.
What do I even want here?Why am I beating myself up with all this crap, keeping secrets from her, then getting mad when she does the same to me?I hoped to put some distance between us, but I’m closer to her now than ever.I can’t believe how I keep forgetting that this isn’t going to work out between us.That I have to tell her the truth instead of falling for her more deeply every day.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, telling me there’s a comment on an Insta story that I’m tagged in.It’s one of Tori’s—like most of Olive’s friends, she’s now following my private account—and I thought it was cute.She videoed us while I put a silly paper crown on Olive’s head at midnight.I wanted to kiss her.You can see that in my face.And in hers.
Tori’s putHappy Birthday to My Favorite Scorpiosat the top.I don’t know what got into me, why I reposted it.We could put it down to the booze, or me wanting certain other people to see it.Seems to have worked, but not the way I hoped.Paxton’s only answer is the passive-aggressive crying-laughing emoji.I feel a stab in my chest, followed by anger.
“Fuck you,” I mutter, blocking him from my story.As I click to see who else has seen the thing, my blood runs cold.There’s a slightly cringy fan account that Cleo’s been running for a while to post about those British boy bands she adores.She thinks Idon’t know it’s her, but she made the rookie error of sharing a video of one of my piano covers that I sent her a while ago.I didn’t mention it, because you can’t tell it’s me.And I get that she wants something that’s just for her.There’s no freedom on our official socials because Mom is constantly checking how we present ourselves in public.Parties and booze are absolutely out, along with any kind of thirst trap—Mom’s target audience is seriously prudish, and she doesn’t want them seeing anything like that.Mid-level hot gym selfies and photos from important events are all that’s allowed.So I haven’t posted anything on @colinfantino for months.I prefer my secret account that just my friends know about, where I only show my face in stories that disappear after twenty-four hours.
Or sooner than that.My finger hovers over the delete button on the video of Olive and me.But I don’t tap it.I’m pissed off with her, but if I trash it now, she’ll know she hurt my feelings.God, I can’t stand this.
“Hey, man, you’re going the wrong way!”
I look up as Kit comes toward me.He’s got a fresh supply of bottles in his hands and his arms open wide.
“Don’t tell me you’re leaving already?”he asks.“It’s your birthday.”
Wrong.It was my birthday.Now it’s Olive’s birthday.And there’s really nothing I want less than to go back to that party.But I also know what would happen if I was on my own in my bedroom now.I’ve gone ten days without a lighter incident—a new record—and however much I’m longing for relief, I don’t want to break my streak.So I need something else to do.
I snatch a bottle and do the thing that always worked in New York.I drink like there’s no tomorrow.
Which works perfectly, better than I expected, even, because I’ve been drinking so little here compared to New York.I’ve gotten unused to it, and it’s not long before I realize I’m drunk.
The greenhouse is so crowded now that it’s easy to dodge Olive.When she sees I’m still here, she gives me a disdainful look, but I can also tell she’s already regretting what she said to me.
I don’t regret it.I keep drinking.
The music gets louder, and the party gets good.Respect, seriously.I’d never have believed it, but these Scots really know how to party.And they can hold their drink in a way that makes my buddies in New York look like amateurs.Me too, but I only notice that too late.Maybe I took too much insulin at dinner.I’d better have another slice of the birthday cake that Sinclair baked for Olive and me—I have to admit it’s seriously delicious.But I don’t get that far.I’m standing in the greenhouse, loud music, dancing bodies, and a few yards away there’s Olive, sitting in an armchair, looking at her phone.No, that’s not right.She’s staring at the screen, and she looks as though she’s seen something terrifying.
I freeze.She lifts her head.She’s gone pale.She finds me amid all these people.Her expression is blank and hunted.I can’t move.And I know.I know.
This is it.
28
