Page 64 of The Very First Night

“And you don’t?”

“I don’t know what I want,” I say with a sigh. “I mean, how am I supposed to have a relationship with the brother who is the reason my dad left in the first place? He left a baby at home to be a father to someone else…who the fuck does that?”

“A piece of shit does that,” Tanner says seriously. “But…your brother didn’t know that. You said it yourself; he didn’t know about you. Wouldn’t you like to know what he’s like outside of the random Facebook stalk sessions?”

My brows shoot up in surprise, earning me a chuckle.

“I know you, Kat. There is no way in hell that you wouldn’t be curious about him. So why not get the information from the source? At the very least, it might give you closure about your dad.”

I hate that he’s probably right. I hate that, despite it not being Patrick’s fault my dad left, I still resent him for taking him away. Yes, I’m aware that isn’t how the world works and people can’t be forced to do anything, let alone by a fetus. But…it’s there, the resentment.

There is also that nagging voice in the back of my mind that maybe Elijah is right—maybe my time isn’t all that important—and the second Patrick learns that, he’ll leave too.

“I hate that Elijah still gets to me.” I stab my spoon further into the ice cream. “We broke up months ago and I honestly thought I was fine. But the second he cornered me to talk, the second he was remotely mean to me, I was instantly a mess.”

Pain creases Tanner’s brow. He shakes his head. “It’s because you loved him. That doesn’t just go away. You might want it to, but it doesn’t just vanish. Give yourself some grace. Time will help…among other things.”

“Like what other things?”

“You know what people say,” Tanner chuckles. “The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.” As he swallows, I can’t help but stare at his bobbing Adam’s apple. “Find a rando and get laid. Prob doesn’t help that you haven’t been with anyone since.”

“I don’t like sleeping with people I don’t know. While I realize some people can do it…I don’t know, it makes me feel icky.”

“So have sex with someone you do know.”

“I don’t want to use someone I care about like that—that isn’t fair to them. I’d need to find someone who knows it means nothing, and even then it still feels wrong.” I stuff more ice cream into my mouth, relishing the sweet flavor.

“Then use me.” Tanner says it as if he just told me the sky is blue, or that classes start on Monday. Something as mundane as the stucco siding on the back patio.

Immediately I break into a coughing fit, nearly choking on the bite of ice cream I just took. As I finally catch my breath, I turn to him and ask, “I’m sorry, what did you just say?”

Any other man would cower away and backtrack, take my response as a clear indicator that I am not interested. Not Tanner, though.

He grins. “Use me. I’m down for casual sex, you trust me, I know it means nothing. So use me.” He scrapes his spoon against the bottom of the cardboard pint, chasing the last bits of ice cream.

I drop my spoon on the counter with a clink. “You don’t date,” I say with my jaw agape.

“And we wouldn’t be dating.” With a wink, he continues, “What? Are you too worried you’ll fall in love with me or something?”

I smack him in the arm. “No, but wouldn’t it be weird? I mean, me and you…ya know.”

“Fucking? Me and you fucking? You have no issue saying the word any other time—fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Us fucking.”

“Jesus Christ, Tanner. I get it.”

He laughs as he tosses the empty pint into the trash can. “If you don’t want to, it’s fine. I’m serious, it’s not a big deal. But if you change your mind, you know where to find me.” He disappears out of the kitchen without so much as a “Good night.”

How the fuck does someone say that and then go to bed?

Fucking serial killer, man.

THIRTY

KAT

The person sitting next to me taps their pen against the desk in a steady rhythm. Each tap echoes throughout the crowded lecture hall, making it hard for me to concentrate on the professor’s words. I try my best to focus on the front of the room, but the tapping continues, growing more and more irritating with each passing minute.

Whatever—it’s syllabus week anyway. I stare down at the paper in front of me as it spells out the rest of the semester bullet point by bullet point. Social Media Strategies was one of the few remaining options to fill my major’s final communications class requirement.

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