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Hell, I’m not either, because where in the actual fuck did that come from? I mean, obviously I meant it, but it’s not like I go around telling Waylon or Shawn their eyes are perfect. So, like…
What the fuck?
He huffs a quiet, miserable sort of laugh that has alarm bells going off.
“Right,” he mutters.
“Jer—”
Shaking his head, he makes a beeline for the door, throwing it open.
“Jeremy!” I call out harshly, chasing after him.
He stops abruptly at the top of the steps, causing me to rock to a stop before I can bowl him over, send him flying. His fingers are white around the railing, and for a second, I wonder if he’s just going to ignore me, and run off to…
Well, I don’t know where. This is his house.
Whipping his head around, he darts his gaze between mine, and I barely hold back a flinch at the agony searing back at me.
What…
“Of course you’d say that,” he all but spits, his voice ragged.
My eyes widen, and I’m shaking my head, already dreading what comes next.
“They’re her eyes.”
And with that, he tears himself away from me, racing down the steps, disappearing around the corner. A moment later, a door opens—slams shut. And I’m left with nothing but a haunted house and those three words bouncing around my head.
They’re her eyes.
Well, fuck.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
I had a panic attack today. The first in a while. It was so stupid too—over nothing.
One second I was walking across campus, and the next someone was yelling “Watch out!” right before a big body crashed into me, sending my satchel flying. Everything spilled out, and suddenly I was six years old and kneeling in mulch, bracing for someone to kick me.
The guy laughed and said sorry, helped me pick up my shit, and then he was gone. Like it didn’t even happen.
Somehow I managed to act normal long enough to get back to my dorm room before losing it completely. Gabe was there…saw it all…
I kissed a guy for the first time last night. Like, a real kiss. One with tongue and wandering hands and dry humping.
TMI? Well, come down here and complain about it.
Anyway, his name was Bash. We met at a party. He asked me out…but I said no. The kiss fucked with me a bit. It felt good…really good…made me want more…just not with him
Another birthday, Iz. You bet your ass I’m playing the dead twin card for extra drinks tonight.
AGE 21, MARCH
“Happy birthday, dear Jeremy,” Gabe and the rest of our group sing obnoxiously into the crowded night club, their voices muffled by the pulsing music and roar of the crowd. “Happy birthday to you.”
The candle flickering on the cupcake presented before me taunts me, beckoning me to throw more empty requests to a deaf, uncaring universe.
And still, knowing people are watching me, waiting for me, what choice do I have but to pretend this isn’t killing me a little bit?
