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Daph stiffens, the tension in her shoulders evident, and even with a room full of space between us, the invisible tether that binds us electrifies with heightened awareness. She spins, slow and deliberate, as though preparing herself for what she inevitably knows she’ll find.
Her eyes remain fixed to the floor, rising only once she’s fully turned to face me, lifting to lock with my own. The air rushes from my lungs, the sight of her the equivalent of a baseball bat colliding with my abdomen. It’s a visceral reaction to her presence, one I’ve been unsuccessful in ridding myself of no matter how hard I try.
I hate the effect this woman has on me, the weaknesses she highlights in my otherwise impenetrable façade. Any semblance of self-preservation cautions me to keep my distance, and yet I can’t seem to pull away.
We stand on opposite ends of this crowded room, captive to one another’s stare. I could spend eternity drowning in those endless emerald pools.
And therein lies the problem.
Because a world where all I see is Daphne leaves far too many blind spots.
It’s on that sobering note that I turn and exit the restaurant.
CHAPTER 7
THEN
DAPHNE – Age 13
I kill time dancing through the halls of my best friend’s house, waiting for her to get home. I beat her and her mom here, but I have my own code to their house. Her mom created one for me a couple years ago with strict instruction that I was to come and go as I please.
Shannon Conners is an angel sent straight from God.
I’ve spent many sleepless nights staring at the ceiling wondering why I couldn’t have been born to someone like her. Wondering what makes me less deserving of love than others.
It’s a question I’ve asked over and over again, one I’ve had to accept I’ll never receive an answer to. And so, I’m left to speculate, spending hours dwelling on which of my many flaws is the reason I’ve been deemed less than worthy by the one person who’s supposed to love me unconditionally.
If my mother cared enough to put me in therapy, the cost of my treatment could probably keep someone’s practice afloat.
The song blasting through my earbuds comes to an end, shifting to the next. Taylor’s voice flows through me, and I slide into the kitchen as she sings the familiar lyrics about the boy she knows to be trouble from the moment she laid eyes on him.
I Knew You Were Trouble (Taylor’s Version) by Taylor Swift (Spotify)
I Knew You Were Trouble (Taylor’s Version) by Taylor Swift (Apple Music)
Bouncing along to the beat, I make my way over to the snack cabinet, where I peruse the goldmine of munchies Shannon always keeps stocked for us. My eyes land on the bag of Nerds Gummy Clusters, and I snatch it up just as the chorus drops. I spin, eyes closed as I lose myself to the music, belting out the words while dancing around the oversized center island. Sliding to a stop, I clutch my imaginary microphone and sing into my fist.
The melody builds, and I freeze, sucking in a breath as I prepare to crush this last chorus. Twirling, I slam face first into a solid wall of muscled torso.
“Jesus!” I shriek, jumping back at the sight of Nicky’s amused smirk. My best friend’s brother stands before me in nothing more than a pair of gray sweats hanging low on his waist. Good God, his body defies the law of physics. Nobody should look this good at sixteen.
Nicky’s hand travels up, plucking one of the headphones from my ears and holding it to his own. His smile starts to slip, but he catches it, recovering quickly.
“Really, Daph?” He cocks a brow. “I didn’t take you for a Swiftie.”
“Hey!” I snatch the bud from his grasp. “Don’t insult the queen. Woman’s an icon.”
He snorts, tossing his hands up in surrender. “If you say so.” His eyes track me as I locate my phone on the countertop, exiting out of Spotify before returning my earbuds to their carrying case. “Is there a reason you’re here bugging me when my sister isn’t even home?”
“I’m meeting her here, jerk. Contrary to what people let you believe, not everything revolves around you.”
“Oooo. Someone’s feeling snarky today.” Nicky reaches around me, never breaking eye contact as he retrieves the candy bag from the counter at my back. Popping a handful of clusters in his mouth, he waggles his eyebrows at me.
Nicky’s never pulled punches when it comes to letting me know just how annoying I am. Over the years, I’ve gotten pretty good at dishing it back at him. This has become pretty standard banter for us, though I would prefer if he was fully clothed when we did it. It makes it a little easier to ignore the somersaults my stomach does whenever he’s near.
“Where is my sister, anyway?”
“With your mom.” I snatch the bag back from his grasp, peeking in to see he’s eaten all but three. Tipping the bag into my mouth, I polish off the last of them before tossing the empty contents in the trash.
