Chapter 22
NOW
Paloma
“What about—”
“We cannot get both of those.” I feel like a bad parent denying her, but the two brightly colored marshmallow cereal boxes in her hands are the same—one of them is just an off-brand. I point to one. “Just get those, they’re better. Now focus, we need meals. Real food.”
Lily grimaces but nods, stepping beside me next to the cart.
We look a little odd, I’m sure—her in her usual full outfit, like I picked her up from some uppity academy, the clack of her heeled boots in sharp contrast to the soft patter of my clogs.
“What kind of food are you good at making?” she asks, eyeing the candy aisle with slight interest, which I quickly divert. All we have in the cart is sugar at this point.
“Not much. I’m not the world’s best cook.”
“I’ve never cooked anything. Except mac and cheese, I can do that one.”
I huff a laugh, shaking my head. “Yeah, me too.”
We turn the corner and the front of our cart collides with someone.
“Oh—sorry—”
“Trying to run me over, Blake?” Sadie Brown says, cat-eyes taking quick stock of my oversized sweatshirt and leggings. “Is it because I stole your outfit?”
“Fuck off, Brown,” I snap, maneuvering the cart around her, only to pause when I almost hit someone else. My stomach sinks.
Rhys Koteskiy, followed by Bennett Reiner.
My mouth parts at the sight of him dressed in nice navy slacks and a sport coat, white pressed shirt and no tie. Rhys is dressed similarly, and for a moment I consider if they had a game today I forgot about—but it wouldn’t be over yet.
“Paloma,” Rhys greets, eyes dipping to where Sadie is now grasping the bars of the cart. My eyes won’t leave Bennett, even as I hear Rhys introduce himself to my silent roommate.
We’re feet away from each other, but even in this god-awful fluorescent light, he’s so ungodly handsome. Thick curls of brown and amber fall carefully around his face. He’s shaved recently, jaw smoother than he usually keeps it, and his eyes are piercing as he looks at me solidly.
“I’m Lily,” my roommate says. “I live with Paloma.”
I look over at that. Sadie smiles, her gaze darting to me again.
Someone tries to maneuver around us, forcing us to back away into a tighter semicircle. It puts Bennett right at my side, the heat of his body smoldering against my right shoulder.
My arms are loose, hands flexing over and over—until I feel a finger along my palm.
I don’t dare to look down to see where Bennett carefully rests the back of his hand against my own. So light I could almost say I’m imagining it.
But I’m not.
My stomach somersaults like he’s kissed me; the touch is just as intimate.
“P,” he whispers, looking straight ahead. “You okay?”
I nod, throat tight, eyes suddenly full up with tears I refuse to let fall. He runs his pinky over mine, linking them with such tenderness I feel him in my toes. Like a piece of his soul runs through my bloodstream.
He’s everywhere all at once, and yet—
“ . . . if you’re interested,” Rhys finishes whatever he was saying. “You are both more than welcome to come.”
“Paloma?” Sadie asks, her use of my first name jarring enough to pull me away from the near mirage that Bennett has become. I snap forward, jerking my hands onto the cart. “Party at the Hockey Dorms, okay? Come. It’ll be fun.”
It might be one of the most genuine, un-sarcastic things she’s said to me.
A saccharine smile stretches my lips, and I nod. “Thanks for the invite.”
I pull Lily along with a hand slipped into hers. She stares at it like some alien thing has attached itself to her palm, but my heart is a roaring beast in my chest and I’m desperate to escape.
We hide in the produce aisle until they’ve left, booze in tow, smiles on all three of their faces. I even hear Bennett laugh, pricking at the back of my neck with the memories it brings.
· · ·
It’s strange, feeling so ingrained into the fabric of someone’s life and yet so incredibly distant from them.
It’s freezing cold and the entire party is in the massive, almost apartment-style house—affectionately, Hockey Dorms—sweating and gyrating to a wild mix of music.
Lily didn’t want to come, her anxiety clear though she lied and said she suddenly felt sick.
I didn’t push her, but against my better judgment, I couldn’t stay away.
So I’m here—alone, sober, and quick as I zoom through the party with one mission.
I shouldn’t be here. Except I can’t stay away from him. I never could, really. Even when it was my only goal.
The frigid late-January air blows in through the open back door where Bennett stands—still in his nice clothes, though he’s discarded the jacket and rolled up his crisp white shirt despite the cold temperature.
He’s speaking softly to a beautiful girl.
Gentle, with that intense listening expression I know well.
It feels like knives, but I smile through the pain of them sliding down my skin.
He looks happy. So I watch him quietly.
There’s a little version of myself inside, wailing constantly, trying to get out. The only time she isn’t silent is when he’s within reach.
“Paloma.”
My eyes slide to the side, toward a small brunette in a silk dress, boots, and a thick leather jacket with two drinks in hand.
“Sadie.” I nod, taking the proffered cup. “What is it?”
“Dirty Shirley.” She smirks, dark red lips perking up. She touches her cup to mine in an almost sarcastic cheers before we both take a swig.
“You know, when Rhys told me you two dated, I was surprised.”
A derisive snort leaves me.
“I imagine the same kind of surprise you had when you realized I was dating him. For girls like us? He’s kinda out of reach,” Sadie continues.
Thinking about Rhys and dating him and that awful night makes me want to be sick, so I shake my head and step away.
“You want to talk about me and your boyfriend hooking up?” I snort. “Really?”
“Watch it,” she snaps, gray eyes heating as she looks at me. For a moment I wonder if she’ll try her claws on my skin. Instead, she takes a deep settling breath and straightens her spine. “I’m trying to make a point.”
“Save it,” I sneer back. “We aren’t the same. Don’t play this stupid game, Sadie. We’re not friends.”
She shrugs as if everything I’ve said rolls right off her. She looks back out the window where my gaze has been all night.
“It wasn’t ever about him, was it? That night at the party?” She takes a sip of her drink. “I’d say not once has your presence in this house had anything to do with Rhys or Holden or any of the guys who’d cut their leg off for a chance to sleep with you.”
I shrug this time, mimicking her with a sip of my own drink. My eyes stray to Bennett again, shoulders tight at the happy, slightly drunken grin he’s sporting.
“Do you love him?”
“No clue what the fuck you’re talking about,” I say, calm and collected. “Better get back to your boyfriend, Brown.”
“Yeah,” she snorts. “Have fun torturing yourself, P.”
And then she’s gone, and I’m all alone staring out across the back patio and trying not to cry. My chest heaves. It feels like mere moments later, though it could be hours for how lost in my head I am, that he approaches me out on the patio. Alone.
“I won’t go with her,” Bennett says. His body is so close, so warm, his bicep pressed against mine through layers of fabric. I don’t look at him.
“It’s fine,” I say, desperate to make my voice sound anything but bitter. “It’s good. I want you to be happy.”
Something I’ve said makes him shake his head in my peripheral.
“Paloma—”
“It’s fine, Bennett.”
“I won’t go with her if you don’t want me to.” He shakes his head. He moves closer to me, the heat of his body all-consuming as he covers my back. He ducks his head down so that his mouth almost touches my ear as he whispers, “Just say the word, P. You can have it all.”
I don’t say anything. This time, I force myself to be strong enough to leave him alone. He doesn’t need this, need me. He deserves so much better than I could ever hope to give him.
I go home to my quiet room. My blue backpack and rabbit sit on the bed, but everything else is still packed up. Avoiding planting roots is my specialty.
And, like always when I can’t sleep or get overwhelmed with the anxiety of a recurring nightmare, I think of Bennett and something softer. Of hands gentle in my tangled hair, a darker shade of blond. Of tentative fingers reaching for each other. Of steadying blue eyes.
The calm I feel in his hands is almost tangible as I pretend he’s beside me now.