Despite growing up together, Catherine Simmons and Mattis Reed were never close.
Cat was inseparable from Mattis' younger sister, Chloé, while he was busy running around on the football field.
But when Cat's new dream drags her across the country du...
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"Reed."
There's a stinging pain on my cheek as if something hit it. Did someone just slap me?
My eyes blink open; vision blurred as I try to focus on the person standing above me.
Aran.
"What the fuck are you doing, dude?" he asks, squinting at me upside down.
"What does it look like? I'm sleeping, idiot," I retort. My body is heavy as I sit up, not nearly rested from my short nap.
"It's the middle of the day, and we gotta leave for the gym in twenty minutes, so why are you sleeping now?" Aran gestures towards the couch where I have taken residence.
I pull off the covers and rub my hands down my face. I could have used another half an hour.
"I wasn't tired last night," I mumble, trying to mask the lie.
Aran isn't fooled, and his features soften with sympathy. "Still no word from Cat?"
He and the twins came back from their weekend trip the day after everything happened. Twenty-four hours after I dropped Cat off at her dorm and let her walk away.
I was in the living room, blackout drunk on tequila and dangerously incoherent. I remember nothing, but according to Aran, I only told them 'something bad had happened.' My roommates have since hidden all the alcohol in the house, and I'm too tired to go to the store.
I still haven't come clean to them, not even Aran. The twins leave me alone for the most part, but my best friend keeps pushing a little bit every day like he doesn't realize how close I am to breaking.
I try to tamper down the wave of anxiety rushing through me when I think of Cat. Looking at Aran, I shake my head mechanically. "It goes straight to voice mail, so either she blocked me or her phone is off." At this point, I don't know which is more likely.
It's been six painful days since that day at the hospital: six days and no word. I'm going crazy.
Aran leans his hip against the back of the couch, cocking his head. "Why don't you just go over there?"
"She asked me to give her space; I'm trying to respect that." I guess it can be hard to understand why I'm suddenly Mr. respectful when you don't know the whole story.
Aran averts his eyes to the windows overlooking the backyard, where the rain is pounding against the grass, a crease between his eyebrows. "Do you think she's okay?"
I fist my hands, a dull pain throbbing in my skull. I've already asked myself this question a million times, and the truth is, I have no idea. "I really hope so."
"Are you okay?" Aran's eyes are back on me, dark and demanding. There's concern there, but more so, there's insistence, and I think he might have had enough. He's allowed me to wallow for almost a week now, and it wouldn't surprise me if he is ready to beat the answers out of me.
