Page 106 of The Very First Night

Disgust churns in my stomach as Elijah’s name blinks on the screen, but I refuse to humor his latest attempt at an apology. I sigh and shove my iPhone back into the front pocket of Tanner’s faded gray hoodie I’m wearing.

I’m done with the toxic Elijah situation—the constant cycle of hurt and shallow forgiveness. I’m grateful for finally coming to my senses. He always expects me to forgive him, but I know deep down he hasn’t changed. It’s just about appeasing his guilty conscience. He doesn’t care about truly making things right with me; he just wants the comfort of knowing I forgave him, even if it isn’t sincere.

I used to constantly think about him, every word he said and every gesture he made. But now, sitting at this table crowded with laptops and textbooks, surrounded by my close friends, the memory of Elijah Hanas feels distant and unimportant. It’s been six weeks since he unleashed his cruel words on me during my birthday party in this very kitchen, but as I look around at the people who truly matter in my life, he dwindles into insignificance.

A year ago, I would have said he was everything. But not anymore.

“Hey, everything okay?” Jenna’s concerned voice breaks through my thoughts as she leans in to get a better look at my phone, still glowing brightly beneath the fabric of my hoodie.

I sigh and pull the phone out, showing her the text messages.

Her brows shoot up. “Big yikes,” she says as she reads the short text thread, noticing the long string of unanswered apologies above it. “Does Tanner know?”

“That Elijah has reached out? Yeah, he knows. He trusts me to handle it.”

It’s true—Tanner trusts me—but he’s also offered on more than one occasion to handle it himself. As much as I appreciate his eagerness to defend me, causing more issues between Tanner and one of his fraternity brothers isn’t something I want, especially with only one semester left until Elijah is out of our hair for good.

“Want me to punch him in the face?” Jenna jokes. At least…I think she’s joking.

Oh my God, I hope she’s joking.

“Believe it or not, I would actually prefer you not do that,” I laugh.

She shrugs. “If you insist, but just remember…I’d do it with very little convincing.”

Jenna insists that she and Marcus are fine, but it’s hard to ignore the tension between them whenever Elijah’s name comes up in conversation.

“Hey Jen, did you order that pizza?” Brendan asks as he rubs his temples, staring down at a textbook that I’m only about fifty percent sure is some kind of high-level calculus.

“Yeah, it should be here any minute,” she says, checking her phone. “Actually, they’re here.”

The doorbell rings right on cue, causing Brendan to jump out of his seat and dart toward the front door. He returns with a stack of three large pizza boxes precariously balanced in his arms, the delicious scent of melted cheese and warm dough filling the air. He starts to eagerly tear open each box until finally reaching the bottom of the stack, where the coveted extra-pepperoni pie awaits.

Tanner joins him, carrying a bundle of paper plates. He grabs two and fills one with three slices of pizza—one of each flavor. On the other plate, he carefully places a single slice covered with pepperoni and pineapple, a small ramekin of ranch dressing on the side. My heart swells with warmth as he hands me the smaller portion and affectionately kisses the top of my head.

I catch Jenna’s gaze fixed on me. Her forehead is slightly creased and her lips are pursed, making her expression nearly impossible to read.

“What?” I ask.

Her lips twitch, fighting back a smile as she rolls her eyes. “Ugh, you two are disgustingly cute.” She groans playfully.

“Well, get used to it.”

“Oh, I plan to.”

FIFTY-TWO

TANNER

Kat fidgets in her seat, her voice laced with impatience. “Seriously, where are we going?”

I suppress a smile as I reply, “You’ll see when we get there.”

It’s only the second time in the past six minutes since we left her mother’s house that she’s asked about our destination. As we drive on, I watch her out of the corner of my eye, growing more restless with each passing second.

After the snafu of her outerwear situation on Thanksgiving, I warned her before we left for winter break that she would need to bring a coat. She gave me a long lecture about how she is not a child and how she is fully aware that she should bring a coat home for winter break, only to tell me when we were twenty minutes from home that she did indeed forget her coat and we had to stop at Old Navy and buy her a new one.

Either way, at least she’s warm.

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