Rolls onto his back.
Stares at the ceiling.
Like nothing almost happened.
Like I imagined it.
I stare at the ceiling too.
Everything feels different now.
Worse.
Because now I know.
It’s not just me.
He felt it too.
He just chose her anyway.
And somehow — that makes it so much harder than if I’d imagined it.
• • •
I wake up alone.
Again.
The bed cold.
The room quiet.
Like he was never here.
I stare at the ceiling.
Three days ago he said I need you so much and meant it.
I heard it in his voice.
And last night Abby kissed him and he came to tell me like I was his best friend.
Like I wasn’t — like we weren’t —
I press my fingers to my eyes.
I almost had something.
I keep almost having it.
And losing it before it starts.
Every single time.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
SIXTEEN YEARS OLD
