Page 50 of Fallen Stars

I collapse on the ground, curl into myself, and silently cry. I send a silent wish out to the universe and beg for my life back. Body numb and eyes stinging, I lay motionless on the concrete with my chin tucked and weep as the man’s words carve themselves into my soul.

A large bottle of water is thrown in the room and a plate with a sandwich is slid across the floor. Then the door closes and I’m swallowed up by darkness once more.

Except this time, I prefer the dark. I beg for the escape and isolation. One breath after another, I pray for death.

But death never comes.

THIRTEEN

LEVI

I exitmy car and weave through the lot toward the entrance of Gigi’s Italian. The light balm from the bay mingles with the sound of classic Italian music. Clusters of people linger near the door as they wait for an open table.

Earlier today, Abigail sent a text suggesting we go out tonight. Though it’s difficult to tell through nonverbal communication, the tone of her text came across as somewhat frantic. When I asked if everything was okay, she said her parents were asking about us more often. Then she said she told her parents we had a date at Gigi’s tonight.

Everyone with the last name Calhoun is all smiles at the news. Me, on the other hand, not so much.

It’s bad enough I suggested this whole fake dating bullshit in the first place. Gaining a friend out of the situation? Not so bad. But now, said friend is making plans for us and telling others without consulting me first… unacceptable.

My father has made it his mission to govern my life and mold me into someone I am not nor will be. Over the past month or so, Abigail seems to have joined forces with my father and is tossing out manipulation tactics like Halloween candy. I will not tolerate either of them.

As I near the host stand, Abigail spots me and gives me her brightest smile. A voice in the back of my mind tells me not to trust that smile.

“Finally, you’re here.” Her whole body comes to life as she steps closer and rests a hand on my forearm. “I’ll let the host know.”

Confusion mars my brow as I watch her talk with the host. The voice in the back of my head speaks louder and tells me to leave. That something isn’t right.

She touched me.

None of our family is here. No one we need to flaunt our lies in front of is present.

So why did she touch me with a level of intimacy we don’t share?

Lost in my head, I miss her return. I fail to pull away before she hooks her arm with mine and gives a gentle tug.

“Our table’s ready.”

Mildly bewildered, I nod and let her lead us to where the host waits. As we move through the restaurant, it feels as though every set of eyes is on us. Judging us together a beat before they whisper to their tablemate.

With as much finesse as possible, I ease my arm free of Abigail. When we reach the table, I let her choose her seat first, then sit opposite her with my chair farther than normal from the table. I tuck my feet under my chair and lean back in my seat, maintaining my personal space.

I open my mouth to ask her if something happened between her text and now, but the server sidles up to the table.

After a thorough rundown of the chef’s specials tonight, they ask for our drink orders. Abigail taps her lips for a moment, then chooses a local red wine. I almost order the same, but stop myself. A twinge in my gut tells me to keep a clear head. So, Iorder a sparkling water. Abigail’s pout at my order amplifies the pang, and I don’t fucking like it.

Ignoring the menu, I study her as she reads hers. Less notable now, her smile never fades. If she’s happy, that’s great. But the longer I stare at her, the more I feel it isn’t general happiness that has her so gleeful.

“What’s up with you?” I blurt out the question, not caring how it comes across.

Her entire expression scrunches to the middle of her face for a split second. Then that damn smile returns.

“Can’t I just be in a good mood?”

I tilt my head, narrow my eyes, and scrutinize her. From her expression and attitude to her attire and the way she looks at me, I evaluate every inch of her.

In a short, cream-colored dress with thin straps and a lowVover her breasts, she has more skin than ever on display. Sitting tall in her chair, she leans in my direction slightly. A subtle smile tips up the corners of her faintly parted lips.

My stomach cramps the longer I study her. The voice in the back of my head more or less yelling at me to get out now.

---