Page 15 of Our Ruined Beginnings

“I—”

“Don’t lie.” I’m not sure how he’s so certain that I was going to, seeing as I didn’t even know how I was going to answer, but it pisses me off either way.

“You don’t get to demand that from me.”

“No? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like I can demand whatever I want.” My brow furrows in his direction, but he doesn’t leave me guessing for too long. “You owe me, Harper. You owe meeverythingbecause you tookeverything.” That takes the wind out of my sails completely.

“Madden—”

“Don’t say my name!” he shouts, like it erupted from him without any warning. His eyes close as if he’s in pain, giving me a reprieve from the intensity of his hate-filled gaze. “Don’t.”

I don’t know what he wants from me, not right now. I don’t know how to act or how to reassure him, and that realization hurts as well, like everything else these days. We used to be so close we could have entire conversations without saying a word, little looks between us enough to convey everything we wanted. Even his brother—my best friend—would ask each of us what was up with the other if we were in a mood. That was how it was. I knew him, could read him like the back of my hand, and he was as apt at reading me. Now, I have no clue.

He towers over me, holding me in place. I can’t help but notice he’s filled out over the summer. He’s always been fit, but the soccer-player build he had before is bigger now. He breathes deeply, steeling himself, but for what, I don’t know. He’s the one who chased me down, hunted me through campus. I was just trying to get away—to breathe like I couldn’t with his gaze on me.

“I don’t know what you want,” I whisper, and his eyes shoot open, new rage within them.

“You can’t give me what I want. Not anymore.” With that, he pushes away from the wall, stalking off to God knows where. Somewhere away from me.

I stay there until the sky turns to dusk, leaning against the wall exactly how he left me. Maybe if I replay those few moments over and over in my mind, he won’t leave. It’s like I’ve been starving for him and now I’m binging on the scraps he gives me. I want to feel mad—to rage at him and sayfuck you, Madden Taylor,but I can’t. Not when he seems so lost and so unlike himself. Not when I’ve loved him for so long, and not when everything he’s saying is true. I did take everything from him, and I deserve everything he gives me for that. So bring it on. I’ll take it all, and I’ll know it’s only what I brought on myself.

I take the long way back to my dorm, soaking in the cool air and thankfully avoiding bumping into anyone else. The campus is eerily quiet, actually. I’m pulling the door to my building open when I hear my name called from across the parking lot.

“Hey, H, wait up!” I turn to where Kinsley jogs toward me, a bag thrown over her shoulder.

“Hey, what’s up?” I ask as she gets closer, and she smiles widely.

“Girls’ night!”

We used to have these at least weekly, I’d say. They’ve been a tradition of ours for years—since we first started caring about what we looked like—so I know her bag is going to contain every beauty product under the sun, and we’ll have the newest season ofKeeping Up with the Kardashiansplaying quietly in the background for the evening. That show is wildly addictive but also easy to pick up again if you dip out for ten minutes for a gossip session. The blast from the past makes my chest ache because this time, we won’t have Caleb, Madden, and Evan interrupting and mocking our pamper time. But I truly appreciate Kinsley for trying, so I force a smile onto my face. It doesn’t feel like it belongs there—like it doesn’t quite fit right—but I hope it at least looks somewhat convincing.

She bumps my shoulder lightly with a sympathetic look. “I even brought out the big guns—Sour Patch Kids.” Guess not.

“Come on up.” I step through the door after her and then lead her to my room, not saying anything as I swing the door open and hear her follow me in.

“Wow, talk about minimal.” She chuckles as she sets the bag down on my bed, jumping up to sit next to it. She’s casting her eyes around the bare room, noticing the empty desk and bookshelf, I’m sure. If she looked inside the bathroom or closet, she’d notice they’re pretty barren, too—courtesy of my unpacking welcome, of course. I’ve managed to replace my textbooks for this first week and some necessities so I can at least wash, but replacing all of my other belongings hasn’t exactly been a priority. Kinsley is waiting for some kind of response, so I shrug, but her eyes narrow.

“What’s going on? You’re hardly a light packer.” I’m not, normally. Turning up to an overnight trip with three bags isn’t unheard of for me.

I don’t look at her as I lie, unwilling to do it straight to her face. “I didn’t think too much about packing when I came.”

“Harper, come on. Tell me.” And I want to. I want to share this with someone—with my best friend. As much as I don’t care about randoms trying to tear me down, it’s kind of shitty to be bottling it inside. Plus, I didn’t give her a good enough explanation for my meltdown earlier, and she still let me off, so I let out a long sigh and take a seat on the small sofa.

“My stuff got trashed the first night I was here.” Her brows crash down in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, the guys aren’t the only ones who don’t want me here. I went out to explore, and by the time I got back, everything I’d unpacked was ruined and shoved back onto my suitcase.” Now her eyebrows shoot up, and it’d be comical if not for the situation, whichwasn’t.

“What the fuck?! Did you report it?”

“No. I know why people feel that way. It’s valid.” She opens her mouth to interject, but I hold my hand up. “I’m sure you have plenty of feelings on that, and honestly, so do I, but I’m gonna need a little time before it’s an open discussion.” I look up at her, checking I’ve not offended her. “Is that okay?”

“I’m just trying to be here for you.”

“I know.”

“But … I will do that however you need. Just let me know when, okay?” I nod, my throat tightening with the emotion that comes with my friend’s unwavering support. I know it would probably help to talk it out, but I’m not there yet. “And,” she drags out, “in exchange for my silence, I get to take you shopping on the weekend.” As if that’s a hardship. Kinsley and I can shop with the best of them on our own, but together, we’re a force to be reckoned with. I smile at her, and she gives me a conspiratorial one back before looking around again, perking up as she attempts to lighten the subject.

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