Stand Close 3 (Stand Close New Adult Romance Series) by Sabrina Lacey Page A
Authors: Sabrina Lacey
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been trying to be like them. But I’m not like them. I’m nothing. And now the whole world knows it.
My lungs hurt, but I ignore them, and lose myself in the distraction of the sun’s kaleidoscope of refracted light throughout the water. It’s so beautiful, peaceful and otherworldly. It beckons me to stay. I watch it and feel peaceful for the first time since I heard the news. The feeling is so longed for that I don’t even know what I’m doing when I open my mouth and let a little water in. In the far reaches of my mind, I know it’s not air, but it feels better than the air I’ve been breathing. The dull echo of sounds begins to be replaced by the sweet lullaby of my slowing heart as I drink more.
Images from my life float by, my mind growing sleepy as I watch them. Sean and I dancing by ourselves at Space Ibiza and him doing the robot, making me cramp up from laughing. My mother taking a bite of my peanut butter toast so big that it was almost gone, and then laughing with her mouth full as I protested. My audition for The Lion King Musical where I was covered in sweat and happiness as we went over the routines again and again. Jenna and my hands held together as we rode across the Brooklyn Bridge. Her running into my room at age twelve, screaming that she’d finally kissed Trathen Heckman. Alec pulling me into the elevator and kissing me so hard my teeth nearly cut my lips. The noise at the airport making him have to yell his declaration that I wasn’t alone.
I’m not alone. Not alone… not alone…
I try to open my eyelids but I can’t. I gasp for air, but there is no air down here and gasping only makes that painfully clear. The water has become so heavy. My limbs won’t move; throat and body are numb. There is no more anything. No more pain. No more chances. No more love.
Chapter Two
Jack
“ S uch a drama queen ,” I mutter under my breath as Rue runs to the pool.
Jenna snaps, “You bring it out in her, Jack.”
I swivel my torso to look at the dancer and give an appreciative glance to her cleavage. “That’s the first time you’ve lost your temper with me.”
She narrows her almond-shaped eyes. “No. It’s the first time you’ve noticed.”
I feign a smile. “Fair enough.”
Picking up the copy of People, I feel something I’m not accustomed to feeling: regret. I knew what I was doing when I called those reporters with my anonymous tip. I gave them all of our intimate details on purpose to fuck with Rue. It was my intention to give her the foulest and most bitter taste of fame I possibly could, a concentrated dose of what Sean and I have endured our whole lives. I wanted to make her pay for my dad caring about her so much that he stowed money away for her well being; never bothering to tell us, the ones who loved him.
When my father committed suicide, I was devastated. I understood the desire on a personal level, but that he went through with it almost killed me, too. Losing a parent before you’re ready, with no warning and no goodbye… no one prepares you for it. It would be insane to think that they could. The foundation that had always been under every action I’d ever taken to impress him was ripped out from under me. There was no one to impress anymore. He was my father. I was his son. For men, this bond is all encompassing.
He cared for Rue. That’s clear. And I hate that. But who did I let myself become, in response? When I called those reporters, it never occurred to me that my family would be hurt by my actions. The media rakes us over the coals as it is; to give them gasoline was stupid. I wasn’t thinking about my mom, Sean, or me. And seeing Rue’s face just now, how it paled–it took the fun out of all of this. The victory was hollow. She didn’t fight back this time. I really hurt her and though I thought that’s what I wanted to do, it didn’t feel good.
My chest is aching and I don’t know why.
Ignoring it, I throw the magazine on the chair. “The
My lungs hurt, but I ignore them, and lose myself in the distraction of the sun’s kaleidoscope of refracted light throughout the water. It’s so beautiful, peaceful and otherworldly. It beckons me to stay. I watch it and feel peaceful for the first time since I heard the news. The feeling is so longed for that I don’t even know what I’m doing when I open my mouth and let a little water in. In the far reaches of my mind, I know it’s not air, but it feels better than the air I’ve been breathing. The dull echo of sounds begins to be replaced by the sweet lullaby of my slowing heart as I drink more.
Images from my life float by, my mind growing sleepy as I watch them. Sean and I dancing by ourselves at Space Ibiza and him doing the robot, making me cramp up from laughing. My mother taking a bite of my peanut butter toast so big that it was almost gone, and then laughing with her mouth full as I protested. My audition for The Lion King Musical where I was covered in sweat and happiness as we went over the routines again and again. Jenna and my hands held together as we rode across the Brooklyn Bridge. Her running into my room at age twelve, screaming that she’d finally kissed Trathen Heckman. Alec pulling me into the elevator and kissing me so hard my teeth nearly cut my lips. The noise at the airport making him have to yell his declaration that I wasn’t alone.
I’m not alone. Not alone… not alone…
I try to open my eyelids but I can’t. I gasp for air, but there is no air down here and gasping only makes that painfully clear. The water has become so heavy. My limbs won’t move; throat and body are numb. There is no more anything. No more pain. No more chances. No more love.
Chapter Two
Jack
“ S uch a drama queen ,” I mutter under my breath as Rue runs to the pool.
Jenna snaps, “You bring it out in her, Jack.”
I swivel my torso to look at the dancer and give an appreciative glance to her cleavage. “That’s the first time you’ve lost your temper with me.”
She narrows her almond-shaped eyes. “No. It’s the first time you’ve noticed.”
I feign a smile. “Fair enough.”
Picking up the copy of People, I feel something I’m not accustomed to feeling: regret. I knew what I was doing when I called those reporters with my anonymous tip. I gave them all of our intimate details on purpose to fuck with Rue. It was my intention to give her the foulest and most bitter taste of fame I possibly could, a concentrated dose of what Sean and I have endured our whole lives. I wanted to make her pay for my dad caring about her so much that he stowed money away for her well being; never bothering to tell us, the ones who loved him.
When my father committed suicide, I was devastated. I understood the desire on a personal level, but that he went through with it almost killed me, too. Losing a parent before you’re ready, with no warning and no goodbye… no one prepares you for it. It would be insane to think that they could. The foundation that had always been under every action I’d ever taken to impress him was ripped out from under me. There was no one to impress anymore. He was my father. I was his son. For men, this bond is all encompassing.
He cared for Rue. That’s clear. And I hate that. But who did I let myself become, in response? When I called those reporters, it never occurred to me that my family would be hurt by my actions. The media rakes us over the coals as it is; to give them gasoline was stupid. I wasn’t thinking about my mom, Sean, or me. And seeing Rue’s face just now, how it paled–it took the fun out of all of this. The victory was hollow. She didn’t fight back this time. I really hurt her and though I thought that’s what I wanted to do, it didn’t feel good.
My chest is aching and I don’t know why.
Ignoring it, I throw the magazine on the chair. “The
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