and eyes sharper than the ragged gravel under our feet.
“Blank stare, shoulders hunched, detached from the world. You should really stop letting him do this to you. It’s not healthy.” The edge that’d stormed the look he shot me across the table earlier seared into the bite of his sarcasm now.
Rain beat onto my hot cheeks. “Riley isn’t doing anything to me.” If I’d asked him to stay, he would have. What made A. J. presume he had a clue about what was going on between Riley and me, anyway?
“Right,” he said. “You just think depression’s an admirable trademark. Is that it?”
I swallowed the sting. “I don’t expect you to understand.”
He caught my elbow and drew us both to a standstill in the middle of the parking lot. “And why is that? ‘Cause I’m not capable of the kind of love you two share?”
“You know that’s not what—”
“Forget it.” He let go of my arm and blew past me. Gravel churned.
He braked several feet away, something unspoken suspending him in place. “I’m more compassionate than you think.” He turned. “I know where this path leads you, Em. I watched you walk down it before, remember?” An undertone of sadness bled into the frustration darkening his face. “Not this time.”
Each stride away from me pushed the impact of his words deeper into my heart.
It wasn’t just about Riley leaving. Trey’s divorce, the attack, Dee, the rejections, this constant tension between us. It was too much. Couldn’t he see that?
My chest heaved with every pent-up word I wanted to say. I didn’t care if everyone was staring at me or that it was pouring down rain. Nothing mattered except someone who was supposed to be my friend stalking off.
Layers of tangled emotions burned hot in my throat. “You want to walk away? You want to avoid me? Fine. As if that would be any different from the entire summer.”
If anger was what it took to break through his shield of apathy, then let him be angry. Let him be furious. At least that was something real.
He advanced straight toward me.
Fight draining, my voice depleted to a hoarse whisper by the time he reached me. “You promised, A. J. You promised we’d still be friends.” Rain dripped from my hair and blended into tears I didn’t bother to wipe away.
Less than a foot across from me, he hesitated for the slightest moment and then drew me close. Despite my resistance, he held on until I finally gave in and clung to his shoulders to keep from falling apart.
“I’m trying,” he whispered.
Minutes passed. Neither of us spoke. Raindrops played percussion against the hoods of the cars around us. Our friends must’ve left in Trevor’s Outlander. When I withdrew from A. J.’s arms, we were the only ones left in the parking lot.
The reality of what had just taken place set in. Perfect. I’d let A. J., of all people, witness my meltdown.
He pitched a tent with his hands above his head, a slow grin hiking his cheek to the left. “Mind if we get out of this rain now, or were you intentionally going for the wet cat look?”
If he were anyone else, it wouldn’t have made sense for a single comment to override everything leading up to it. Yet one genuine smile, and all slivers of self-consciousness vanished under the ease of a friendship I’d thought I’d lost for good.
“We wouldn’t want to mess up your hair or anything.” I flicked the top of the perfectly molded sculpture. “Wow. Go a little overboard with the hair gel this morning?”
“Hey, hey, hey.” He ducked out from under my reach and patted his hair to assess the damage. “It takes a lot of hard work to compete with Jareth the Goblin King.”
My grin turned into outright laughter. “Only you would bust out a Labyrinth joke while we’re standing in the rain, after I just bawled my eyes out.”
Smiling, he drooped his arm over my shoulder and steered me toward his car through an obstacle course of puddles. “Hey, I can’t help it if you have a
“Blank stare, shoulders hunched, detached from the world. You should really stop letting him do this to you. It’s not healthy.” The edge that’d stormed the look he shot me across the table earlier seared into the bite of his sarcasm now.
Rain beat onto my hot cheeks. “Riley isn’t doing anything to me.” If I’d asked him to stay, he would have. What made A. J. presume he had a clue about what was going on between Riley and me, anyway?
“Right,” he said. “You just think depression’s an admirable trademark. Is that it?”
I swallowed the sting. “I don’t expect you to understand.”
He caught my elbow and drew us both to a standstill in the middle of the parking lot. “And why is that? ‘Cause I’m not capable of the kind of love you two share?”
“You know that’s not what—”
“Forget it.” He let go of my arm and blew past me. Gravel churned.
He braked several feet away, something unspoken suspending him in place. “I’m more compassionate than you think.” He turned. “I know where this path leads you, Em. I watched you walk down it before, remember?” An undertone of sadness bled into the frustration darkening his face. “Not this time.”
Each stride away from me pushed the impact of his words deeper into my heart.
It wasn’t just about Riley leaving. Trey’s divorce, the attack, Dee, the rejections, this constant tension between us. It was too much. Couldn’t he see that?
My chest heaved with every pent-up word I wanted to say. I didn’t care if everyone was staring at me or that it was pouring down rain. Nothing mattered except someone who was supposed to be my friend stalking off.
Layers of tangled emotions burned hot in my throat. “You want to walk away? You want to avoid me? Fine. As if that would be any different from the entire summer.”
If anger was what it took to break through his shield of apathy, then let him be angry. Let him be furious. At least that was something real.
He advanced straight toward me.
Fight draining, my voice depleted to a hoarse whisper by the time he reached me. “You promised, A. J. You promised we’d still be friends.” Rain dripped from my hair and blended into tears I didn’t bother to wipe away.
Less than a foot across from me, he hesitated for the slightest moment and then drew me close. Despite my resistance, he held on until I finally gave in and clung to his shoulders to keep from falling apart.
“I’m trying,” he whispered.
Minutes passed. Neither of us spoke. Raindrops played percussion against the hoods of the cars around us. Our friends must’ve left in Trevor’s Outlander. When I withdrew from A. J.’s arms, we were the only ones left in the parking lot.
The reality of what had just taken place set in. Perfect. I’d let A. J., of all people, witness my meltdown.
He pitched a tent with his hands above his head, a slow grin hiking his cheek to the left. “Mind if we get out of this rain now, or were you intentionally going for the wet cat look?”
If he were anyone else, it wouldn’t have made sense for a single comment to override everything leading up to it. Yet one genuine smile, and all slivers of self-consciousness vanished under the ease of a friendship I’d thought I’d lost for good.
“We wouldn’t want to mess up your hair or anything.” I flicked the top of the perfectly molded sculpture. “Wow. Go a little overboard with the hair gel this morning?”
“Hey, hey, hey.” He ducked out from under my reach and patted his hair to assess the damage. “It takes a lot of hard work to compete with Jareth the Goblin King.”
My grin turned into outright laughter. “Only you would bust out a Labyrinth joke while we’re standing in the rain, after I just bawled my eyes out.”
Smiling, he drooped his arm over my shoulder and steered me toward his car through an obstacle course of puddles. “Hey, I can’t help it if you have a
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