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And with nothing but plastic stars and planets as my witnesses, in the arms of the boy I love and who I’ll never have—not now, and not ever—I let the lie fall easily from my lips.
“Yes.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
I’m sliding
Slipping
Losing
Where are you
Whereareyouwhereareyou
I didnt mean it, I’m sorry. Come back, please come back
“What happened?” a familiar voice rushes out, their tone pulled tight like a whip that somehow manages to cut through the heavy fog pressing in around me.
The world rocks and sways beneath me, and I’m vaguely aware of a scraping—dragging sound. It’s not until I land in a heap on something soft that I realize it was my feet shuffling across the floor.
The weight I felt under my arm a moment ago is gone, so I take my newfound freedom and curl up on my side, using my clasped hands as a pillow.
“Field party,” a new, deeper voice says.
Waylon…
I vaguely remember seeing his face. Just a flash of an image really.
Furrowed black brows.
Flames dancing in glittering dark eyes.
Stars streaking in a blurred vortex above his head.
The ground was damp. Soft. Cold.
We’d shown up at the party together…
It’s Halloween.
There was a bonfire.
I don’t remember how we got separated.
I don’t remember much of anything.
“Sorry to just, like, drop him on you like this.”
“No, no, I’m glad you brought him home.” Mom.
He brought me home? Why would he?—
“Did he take anything, or?—”
“No. Not that I saw. He’s just…really drunk.”
A moment passes, then, “And you?”
