Pull (Seaside #2)(51)

I glanced up at Demetri through watery eyes. He was patiently standing in the kitchen pretending to be immersed in reading a magazine while we all poured our hearts out.

What would his paper say? I looked down at mine again and sighed. Would his letter be to his ex-girlfriend? One thing was for sure. I didn’t want him to read my paper. It would kill him and I couldn’t hurt him. He didn’t deserve the hurt that came with being associated with me. Yet, I craved him, cared for him, needed him more than I was ready or willing to admit. Was it selfish that I held on to him? All the insecurities of the night before came flooding back.

I stood and walked over to him. His eyes snapped up and that devastating grin, the one that made me want to wrap my arms around him and never let go, appeared on his face. “Finished?”

“Yes.” I folded my paper and put it on the table. “You’re right. It was good to write some things down.” Even though it almost killed me to admit any of the things I just admitted.

“Say it again.”

“It was good to write some things down?” I grinned, enjoying the way he was trying to tease me out of my sadness.

He scowled and shook his head, this time leaning down and whispering in my ear, his lips moving just against the tip causing butterflies to shoot through my stomach. “The other part.”

“You’re right?”

“Damn straight, I’m right.” His tongue touched my ear and flicked it before he sucked for a few seconds then abruptly pulled back.

Bob cleared his throat and glared at us. Thankfully everyone else was still immersed in their note writing, and I was ready to fall into a puddle at Demetri’s feet. How did he make me feel so crazy?

For a brief second I forgot all about the note I just wrote about regrets. My body reacted to Demetri the way that electricity reacts when a live wire is exposed. Everything felt good, and I wanted more and more of him.

I just wasn’t sure if Demetri was willing to share me with someone who was dead. I wasn’t sure if I would share me. Was I really worth it all in the end? Or would he tire of my emotional breakdowns like everyone else did? Would he constantly wonder about where my thoughts were? When he kissed me would he think I was wishing it was Brady?

“Penny for your thoughts.” Demetri grabbed my hand and kissed it.

“My thoughts are worth more than a penny.” I argued.

His face turned serious. “Believe me, I know. I just hope one day I’ll be able to afford them.” He gave me a sad smile and went back to the chair where he began gathering the pencils and papers.

“Alright, everyone, it’s time to come back together.”

The rest of the group sat down. Sam looked like he had been crying as he wiped his eyes and sighed. Connor looked just as bad if not worse. I could guess what he wrote, something about regretting driving that night or even possessing a license. Aaron and Holly were sad too, but I think most of their grief came from something unrelated to Brady and the accident. Aaron kissed Holly’s head and sighed heavily.

Demetri took everyone’s papers. “I’m not going to read these. They’re private. Between you and what you regret. But if anyone’s willing to share, I think it would be really cool.”

Holly spoke up. “I lost my baby.”

Aaron held her tightly as she began to softly cry. “In high school I got pregnant and I had a miscarriage. It was really hard and… well, it almost destroyed my relationship with Aaron.”

Aaron cleared his throat. “It was a Friday night. I was angry at Holly. She had been drinking and instead of staying with her at the party I ran off.”

I listened intently as Holly continued where Aaron left off. “I was so upset he would abandon me that I slept with one of the football players. I found out I was pregnant at the beginning of football season. I told Aaron and he threatened to kill the father.

But I refused to tell him who it was. It wasn’t his business, and it nearly killed us both.”

The room fell silent. Holly choked back a few more tears. “It felt good. To write that letter. To talk to Aaron about it. I feel better.

Thanks, Demetri.”

Demetri smiled warmly. “Anytime. And don’t worry, the first time Mrs. Murray asked me to do this I cried for days. And if that ever gets leaked out into the press I’ll hunt each and every one of you down.”

Everyone laughed nervously.

“Let’s plan to meet in a few more days. I want all of you to think about regrets this week. Live your life as if each moment is your last. This isn’t about going crazy. It’s about appreciation.”

Suddenly Demetri seemed so much older than I. He had gone through a lot in his life, and it showed in the way he spoke about regret, about living. If there was one thing I was confident about, it was that Demetri knew how to live, and I desperately wanted to follow in his footsteps. But what do you do when the very person’s footsteps you hope to follow in is the exact person you want to carry you?





Chapter Twenty-four


Demetri


“I’m like James Bond minus the British accent,” I announced to Alec on the phone that night.

“Yeah, you’re a regular 007. Tell me, Goldfinger, is the world ever enough?”

“You only live twice, Octo*.”

“Demetri Daniels, Man with the Golden Gun.”