Page 115 of Dare To Live

We weave our way past the tables, and it takes me a second to realize that he’s leading me toward the one that had always been his. When we reach it, Eli pulls out a chair.

“I’m not sure what they’re serving.”

Why does he sound so nervous?

I’d seen the information pack on the desk in my room with a printed menu for the entire week. Had he been too distracted with memories to notice his own?

“Whatever they have is good.” I smile.

“Be right back.” He hovers beside the table, unmoving, tension a palpable force around him, then vents a low laugh “I’m not used to doing this.” He spins away and joins the line before I can respond.

My heart aches. The one thing I remember with vivid clarity is Kellan always fetched Eli’s meals. They’d been joined at the hips. Wherever one was, the other wasn’t far behind. Tearing my attention away from him, I scan the other faces in the cafeteria.

A few others have joined Brad and Lacy’s entourage since I was last in here. Tina is pale and thinner, her eyes darting from person to person. Beside her, Linda is dressed all in black and is talking to a much older looking Jace. He glances my way a few times, but I don’t make eye contact.

Garrett gives me a wave but remains where he is. I raise my hand in greeting and promise myself to talk to him when I get a moment tomorrow. He’d been a good friend in the aftermath of what happened, and I’d been sad when we’d lost contact after I moved away from the Hamptons.

Eli reappears, carrying a tray, and places it on the table. “They had mac and cheese. I seem to recall you eating that.”

I take my silverware and the plate of pasta covered in its cheesy sauce. “It’s perfect.”

He takes the seat beside me and takes the other plate. Scooping up some of the pasta, he pops it into his mouth and chews. His jaw is tight, and I can almost sense the restlessness rolling off him.

He hates being here, it’s clear. Mealtime in the cafeteria must bring back many memories.

He told me at the cabin that he has nightmares. Will being here now trigger more?

Will we both have them tonight since we’re back close to the source of our trauma and sorrow?

We eat in silence for a few minutes.

“I’d like to spend the week with you, Arabella Gray.”

My throat tightens into a knot. “You would?”

He nods.

“I don’t understand. If this is about those texts and photos I sent in New York, you know how drunk I was—”

“No,” He reaches for one of the drinks on the tray. “Don’t overthink it. Forget what happened. Let’s just start from the beginning. A fresh slate. I’m a boy who’s just met a girl who he’d really like to spend time with.”

My lips part at his words.

Is that even possible? How can we wipe away all the memories that link us?

What happened broke us in different ways. He hurt me. I hurt him. We hated each other. We loved each other. We lost each other.

But what if we could go back?

Why can’t we take back those moments? I never got to argue with him about pizza toppings the first time around or find out the name of his favorite movie. We never had the chance to do what normal couples do.

Why can’t we pretend we’re eighteen again?

I pick up my fork and poke at my pasta. “You’re kind of cute. I guess I could hang out with you.”

The tension in his shoulders relaxes just a fraction, and he tilts his head. “Cute, huh? I think you’re hot as fuck.”

“Are you flirting with me, Mr. Travers?”

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