Page 7 of Our Ruined Beginnings

While the car itself is harmless, what it represents is anything but. My body begins to hum with anticipation, my fight-or-flight mode kicking in with a stark realization. It wasn’t an unsuspecting danger I was sensing the moment I stepped into this hallway. It was him.

It’s always him.

Though my eyes remain locked on the innocuous toy car, the front crumpled in on itself, I know who put it here. I know who trashed my room, and I know who doesn’t want me here.

How could I not?

I know him as well as I know myself, just as I know he’s here somewhere, watching. I can feel him. I always have.

Madden

She scans the hallway, her eyes darting over every nook and cranny as if she can sense the danger lurking. Hesitation makes her movements slow, but eventually, she turns to her locker. She fumbles over the combination, twisting the lock clumsily with her eyes half-closed.

My fingers itch at my sides, impatience fueling my movements as I take a step forward. The pull to go to her is overwhelming. It’s the same pull I’ve always felt, promising happiness the moment I see her. I fight it, my fists clenched with the physical effort it takes.

I run my gaze over her, slowly taking in the loose-fitting black dress she wears. The material falls near her ankles, with long, flowing sleeves. The look is a stark contrast to the attire I’d grown accustomed to her wearing over the years. It’s like she’s trying to hide herself away—to fade into the background and let the world pass by around her.

Unfortunately for us both, that isn’t a remote possibility.

Harper is, and always has been, a person who commands attention. From her deep golden-brown skin and dark hair that falls halfway down her back in spiral curls, to the way she smiles with abandon, showcasing the dimples in her cheeks. Even the way she strolls across the space, her gait graceful and full of confidence, has all eyes zeroing in on her. She’d weave tales with her hands, growing animated, and everyone in her vicinity would give her their undivided attention.

Even now, with her face hidden as she looks into her locker and none of that natural, warm charm emanating from her, everyone around watches. I used to find it awe-inspiring, the way she’d exist peacefully and let the world pass her by.

Today, I find it maddening.

Closing the distance between us, I reach her locker and press my hands to the cold metal on either side of her head. My body hums with electricity, the barely contained rage sparking a fire inside as I press my chest flush to her back. She gives me no reaction in return.

My fingers itch to touch her—to close around her throat, to feel her struggle for breath the same way I have these last two months. That’s the issue with loss. It doesn’t only claim those who are gone, it also poisons every single person they come into contact with. Harper and I are prime examples of that.

Once upon a time, she’d have turned to me with a bright smile, her eyes glittering with amusement as I stole the distance between us, claiming her publicly, even though she was never really mine. Now, she stays locked in place, her body unnaturally still.

“Hi, Harper.”

She shudders in a breath at the rumble of my voice. Finally, a reaction. It fuels me like crack; nothing has ever felt so fucking good. I’ve been dead all summer, and that damn shudder revived me. “Do you like your present? I handpicked it just for you. A welcoming gift, you could say.”

“It’s beautiful. You shouldn’t have,” she quips, and while part of me wants to laugh in relief that she’s still the Harper I knew, the realization she’s acting like she’s the same fucking Harper IthoughtI knew has fury bubbling inside me.

A bitter, unbelieving laugh shoots from my lips at her answer. Shaking my head, I pull a hand from the locker and tuck the strands of hair shielding her face behind one ear. I lean down, pressing my lips close to her ear, and her sweet scent engulfs me. “I see you’ve still got some of the spark I’ve always loved. It would be a shame if something snuffed it out, don’t you think?”

She straightens her back, barely coming to my shoulders as she extends to her full height. It was something I always loved about being near her—the way she fit so perfectly against me. A part of me always wondered if she’d been tailor-made with me in mind, and, even though we never acted on our feelings, there was never a doubt in my mind as to where she belonged.

What a naive bastard I was.

“What do you want, Madden?”

“Can’t a guy say hello to an old friend?” I ask, my eyes zeroing in on the goosebumps that trail across her neck. I trace the pebbled skin, my breath growing shallower with her reaction. “After all, we’ve known each other our whole lives. It would be weird if I didn’t, don’t you think?”

“No weirder than you pretending I don’t exist,” she bites out, twisting her face toward me. My eyes zero in on hers, and a thousand emotions swim in the depths. Questions, need, sadness.

I force my mouth into a smirk, my eyes following hers as her gaze locks on my lips. Her chest heaves, and her eyes widen slightly, as though she hadn’t realized just how close we are.

It isn’t the first time we’ve found ourselves in a position like this, but it is the first time I’ve felt the need to pull away. I don’t—Iwon’t.That would mean she won this round, and I’m not going to give her the satisfaction of thinking I can’t handle being this close to her.

“Aw, baby, have you missed me?” I taunt.

She opens her mouth to say something, but a sharp bellow comes from the other end of the hallway, calling my name. I crane my neck toward the intrusion, my body tensing as I take in Evan.

Despite calling my name, his attention is solely focused on the girl beneath me. His eyes run lazily over her, a smug smirk lifting his lips. For some reason, his attention has me bristling.

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