Page 54 of The Very First Night

“It was good,” I say. I couldn’t even tell her what Janet and I talked about if I wanted to, not with Patrick’s letter searing into my palm.

As if she can tell where my attention is at, my mom looks at the papers. “What are those?”

“Just some information Janet printed out about therapy options when I’m back at school.”

She nods, and I almost think I catch a glimpse of approval. “Good.”

TWENTY-FIVE

KAT

Gazing at the spacious two-story home we toured last spring, my heart begins to race and my palms start to sweat. Memories and an overwhelming sense of anxiety fill me as I stare at the bright red door, a feature that made me fall in love with the house now like one big sign warning me not to go past the threshold.

Why did I think it was a good idea to live with Elijah this semester? Even if we were together, it was a bad idea. Now, all I can think about is how uncomfortable this is going to be.

At least I’ll have Jenna, even if she isn’t coming until tomorrow afternoon.

With a box teetering precariously on the edge of my foot, I hoist another onto my shoulder and carefully balance both as I make my way toward the stairs. My arms strain under the weight, but I’m determined to minimize the number of trips I have to make. That, and I’d like to get everything into the house so I can avoid leaving my room for the rest of the night. I have no idea when Elijah is supposed to arrive, or if he’s already here. I deeply hope he isn’t.

My arms strain under the weight of the heavy boxes, but I finally manage to drop them onto my bedroom floor. Turning around, I don’t notice the tall figure standing directly in front of me until it’s too late. My hands instinctively fly up to protect my face as I collide with a solid wall of muscle covered by a tight cotton T-shirt that belongs to someone I used to know; someone who still holds a piece of my heart.

My chest tightens in discomfort as I look away, feeling his gaze upon me. I hastily choose to pay exponentially more attention to the crown molding above my head than it calls for.

“I didn’t realize you were here,” I say, shifting my attention and picking at my cuticles, the all-too-familiar nervous tic giving me a semblance of calm, though I’m still ready to jump out of my skin.

“I got here this morning,” Elijah says after clearing his throat.

“Did you need something?” I ask coldly.

He stands in the entrance, his broad frame blocking my escape. I shift uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact until finally I muster up the courage to meet his gaze. His face is a blank canvas, but I can see the gears turning behind his eyes as he ponders something. Is it contemplation? Disappointment? The unknown is almost more agonizing than the awkward energy filling the space between us.

He’s always been hard to read.

“I was hoping we could talk…”

Talk—talk?! He wants to talk now? After a summer of radio silence, he finally wants to talk?!

“About?” I try to feign disinterest, but my irritation is bubbling up to the surface.

“Kat, please.” If I didn’t know him better, I would think it genuine anguish in his tone. I, however, do know him better, and I’m not falling for it again.

“You want to talk? Talk.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I pin him with a glare.

He appears to realize something—what I can’t be sure, but whatever it is causes him to cower backward. “No, it’s fine. We can talk later.”

The old me would have gone after him, chased him down the hall, demanding an answer, asking him to talk to me. It’s all I ever really wanted, anyway: for him to talk to me.

However, I’m not that girl anymore. At least, I don’t want to be. So I let him leave the room, and as he disappears down the hallway, I feel a weight lift off my chest—a giant boulder that I didn’t even realize was there until it’s gone.

After spending hours locked in my room, I finally gather the courage to venture out again. As I carry the last few boxes and bags up to my bedroom, I can’t help but feel grateful for my decision to bring most of my belongings from home. After three years, I’ve learned that having familiar possessions around me makes this foreign place a little less intimidating. And as I settle into my senior year, I know one thing for sure: I don’t want to be here without everything I need.

That, and I have a tendency to find comfort in familiarity—something I desperately will need, given my living situation.

“Katarina Marritt, as I live and breathe,” a warm and familiar voice intones from my bedroom doorway.

The moment I turn around and find Tanner grinning back at me as he leans against the doorframe, any sort of irritation from before is gone. Gone and replaced with nothing but elation.

“Tanner!” I squeal, lunging across the room and wrapping my arms around his neck. Despite my sweat-dampened skin, he squeezes me tightly, lifting me off the ground in the process. “I thought you weren’t heading up until tomorrow!”

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