Beyond What is Given(81)

“Yes, and I’m looking at her right now.”

“You didn’t call. You left, and went to her, and you didn’t call.”

His eyes closed like he was in pain, and he rested his forehead against mine. “I am an *, and I’m sorry. My head was not the sanest place to be. But I swear, not calling you didn’t mean that I wasn’t thinking about you. I didn’t know what to say to you. I didn’t know what to say to myself.”

“Or you were thinking how to break it off with me.”

He kissed me again, this time tender. “I’m not breaking it off with you. I’m not leaving.”

“Yet. You’re not leaving yet. But you will.” It was simply inevitable. My eyes prickled. “Why won’t you do it now and save us both a lot of pain?”

Grayson released my hands and then brushed my cheeks with his thumbs. “Save us pain? Like splitting now wouldn’t hurt? Fuck, Sam. I…” He swallowed. “I’m not sure I could survive losing you, and maybe that’s selfish. I know I’m graduating. We still have to figure out what we are going to do in December. But I’m not leaving you.”

“Even for her?”

He didn’t look away, but I felt, more than saw, the war raging beneath the surface. It was in his rigid posture, the ticking in his jaw, the tender way he stroked my skin absentmindedly. “I’m with you.”

“For how long? Until we get to North Carolina? Until you realize that I’m a hot mess who’s barely pulling herself together and can’t hold a candle to the resident paragon of the Outer Banks? What happens then, Grayson? What happens the first time I see the look in your eyes that you made the wrong choice? Or the first time you realize that if we’d stayed away from each other, you wouldn’t be in this situation? A few months. You made it five years staying faithful to her, and I ruined you in just a few months.”

“You didn’t ruin me. You brought me back to life. Why are you so sure I would leave you? Why can’t you have a little faith in me?”

We stared at each other, the silence charged with so much tension it should have come with its own weather forecast. Maybe he was right, and I needed to show a little faith. Maybe I was being horrendously unfair to the man I was in love with. Maybe there was a chance he would be the exception, and not leave. “What did she say when you told her about us?”

He paled, and his hands fell away from my face. My little army of defense-building minions couldn’t help me this time. “You didn’t tell her,” I whispered.

“Damn it.” His hands raked over his face. “I wanted to, but her family asked that I wait and give her time to adjust. Her whole life is in upheaval, and I couldn’t bear to add to it. I’ve loved her all my life. She’s my best friend.”

Loved her all my life. She hadn’t just lapped me; she’d left the track with the flowers already—victorious.

I pushed on his chest lightly, and he stepped back. “And I’m just the girl who sleeps in your bed.” How much pain could one person handle? How many ways could a heart be shredded before it shriveled and died? I wanted it to die. At least then the feelings would go with it.

“Samantha, please.” He reached for me, but I sidestepped.

“Let. Me. Go.” I meant it in more than one way, and given the way he started to shake his head, he knew it. “I love you, Grayson. But you are the last person I want to see right now.” He moved enough for me to open the door.

“We’re not done talking about this,” he called after me as I slammed my bedroom door.



“You look like death warmed over,” Avery said as she walked into the gym. Her sweet little southern accent didn’t soften the insult. She wore her gym polo over a pressed pair of capris, her blond hair in a messy knot at the back of her head.

“Nice to see you, too, cupcake,” I replied from my spot behind the desk.

She came into the raised office area and dropped her book bag on the ground. “Seriously. And I’m pretty sure you’re wearing two different shoes.”

I scoffed and looked down. “I most certainly do n—” Well, shit. “They’re the same color, it’s an easy mistake.”

“Except one’s Adidas and the other’s Saucony.” She pulled out her books and put them on the desk next to the phone.

“Rough morning,” I said, tucking my feet under the desk.

“Trouble with the flyboy?” She opened her trig book and her notebook. When I didn’t answer, she swung her head my direction and blinked. “Whoa. Really?”

“Nothing you need to worry about, Avery. How is your homework?” I peeked over her shoulder.

“Confusing. It probably didn’t help that I spent most of class making moon eyes at Grady Alexander. But in my defense? This stuff doesn’t make any sense, and I zoned my teacher out.”

“Bet you wished you’d paid as much attention to your teacher as you did Grady, huh?”

“Ha-ha. Very funny. Homecoming is in like a month, and I don’t have a date. That is way more important than trig.” She tapped her eraser on the blank sheet of paper.

At twenty-one, I knew that wasn’t true. Then again, here I was deciding my collegiate future on where my boyfriend planned on moving so that he could be closer to his other girlfriend. I was four years older than Avery and still a f*cking mess.