He waited, perhaps how the moon waited for the sun.
And I chose to ask more of it-of the ceaseless hope we held in our palms. "Give me tonight, please."
"You've got tonight." It was an effortless sentence. A string of words spelling assurance, settl...
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I DID WHAT I WAS BEST AT. I ran.
I pushed past bodies, apologies lingering in the air, unable to tear my eyes away for a split-second. She was here—standing with the same smile and the same hair, voice fading but too distinct to ignore. I wasn't seeing things or mistaking it. Every bit of my sanity was wilting.
I couldn't let her see me. I couldn't let them see me.
Evan's voice sounded behind me, but I kept walking. Head hung low, heart thumping in my ears, breathing distorted, it was becoming so hard—to breathe.
Outside, the air was biting. Harsh winds like barbed wires prickling into my skin. My chest convulsed at every possibility: had they seen? How much did Jayden know? Had she told him everything?
Would he hate me too?
I hadn't realized how rapidly my chest was rising and falling until Evan's hand landed on my shoulder.
"Laura." His voice sounded so far away. "What's going on?"
I remembered to slow count to five, turning to face him. "I. . .it's really hard to breathe."
He got a hold of my hands, face twisting in an unspoken emotion. "Breathe with me." I observed his chest rise and fall under a sheen of glossy eyes. "You're okay. I'm here. You're okay."
"I think they saw me." I exhaled, tears staining my cheeks. "I need to go."
He cupped my face. I tried to focus. On the familiarity—the very hold of his which was a remedy for this ruin. Focus, focus, focus.
Why was I such a damn coward?
"Who saw you, Laura?"
"Elizabeth."
He blinked. "You saw Elizabeth inside?"
I nodded. "And Jayden, too. And. . ."
"No one's following behind you," he said. His hand enveloped mine. I breathed: one, two, three. It will be okay. It will be okay. It is okay. "Let's go sit in the car. I'll tell the guys you're not feeling well. Come."
I turned around once, eyes locked on the entryway of the arcade, and Evan tugged at my waist. We walked in silence until my car was in sight and my breathing was becoming easier. Then, Evan said: "Do you want to go home?"
I didn't respond. He held open the door for me when I got in, eyes set on mine. "Water?"
I nodded. He sprinted to the other side, seated himself, and grabbed a bottle. "Here."
Silence.
Then: "I'm so sorry."
He looked at me. A warning. "Laura."
"Today was your day, and I. . .," my voice broke. Vision reclaimed blurriness. Heart still beat in my ears, but his voice was nearer than before. "I'm. . .pathetic."
