Page 21 of Oblivion

SAMMY

My head aches, and despite having gone to sleep straight away after Drew left last night, I feel tired and lethargic as I roll upright and swing my feet out of bed and onto the floor. Lifting my hands, I rub at my gritty eyes, twisting my head from side to side and slowly stretching all of my tired, aching muscles.

My head, my shoulder, and my leg all hurt, and I groan, contemplating just going back to bed rather than getting up and facing the fact that I must be getting sick. When my bladder protests, I push to my feet, wiggling until the silk pajama bottoms that have twisted during the night reposition themselves.

Padding into my bathroom, I pee, then splash water onto my face before I blink up and look in the mirror. Some girls wake up pretty, but I’m not one of them, and I groan as I stare at my bedraggled appearance. Reaching into my shower, I turn on the water, then quickly undress, abandoning my PJs to the floor before I step under the stream of hot water and sigh happily as the warmth soothes my aching body.

Closing my eyes, I tip my head back under the water and take a moment to enjoy the quiet. But sooner than I’d like, yesterday’s revelations fill my mind. Reluctantly opening my eyes, I lift myhand and look at the classic diamond solitaire that Drew slipped onto my finger after I accepted his proposal.

It’s a pretty ring. The band is made of yellow gold, and the single diamond is large enough to show the world how wealthy Drew is but not large enough to look gaudy or fake. If a ring could encapsulate exactly who a person is, then this ring is Drew. Solid, classic, timeless, but a little bland.

I’ve never actually thought about what kind of engagement ring I’d want if I had to pick for myself. I doubt I’d have chosen a diamond, though. There’s nothing overtly wrong with diamonds, they’re just a bit…dull. If I were picking my own jewel, I’d probably go for a mysterious ruby or a depthless emerald. I’d maybe pick something vintage with a story and history of past loves lost and won.

But it is beautiful, and this ring comes with a preplanned future, where I don’t have to be anything other than exactly what Drew has expected me to be since we were children, and that’s easier than facing the unknown…isn’t it?

Dropping my hand, I try to push the ring and the engagement and the future that I’m not sure I’m going to get any say in, from my thoughts. Grabbing my bottle of foaming soap, I squeeze a generous amount into my palm, watching as it changes from clear to white and expands. Pressing my hands together, I split the foam between each hand and start to lather it over my skin, starting with my arms and working my way down my body.

The deliciously light mandarin and vanilla scent fills the air, and I smile, squeezing more into my hands as I slowly coat my legs in the thick, white creamy foam. Bending forward, I roll the anklet on my ankle out of the way and then freeze, bent over in the shower.

Pulling back a few inches, I allow the water to wash the foamy soap from my skin and stare down at the gold chain and charm around my ankle.

“What the fuck?” I whisper. Leaning forward, I touch the chain, almost expecting nothing to be there, but instead, my fingertip runs along a fine strand of metal chain that is encircling my ankle with a tiny padlock-shaped charm hanging from it.

Gasping, I fling open the shower stall door and step into the bathroom, water dripping from me. Bending down, I try to get a better look at the charm, only it’s so small I can barely make out what it is.

Stumbling to the toilet, I push down the lid, then sit down on it, lifting my foot up into my lap. My hand is shaking slightly as I examine the chain that doesn’t seem to have a start or end or a clasp to remove it. It’s a perfect circle, with no explanation of how it came to be around my leg or how to take it off.

Slipping the tiny padlock charm around the chain, I bend forward and examine it, sucking in a shaky rasp when I see what’s engraved on it.

The letters E and M are twisted together, a tangle of entwined letters forming an old-fashioned monogram.

“Oh, fuck.”

Before I even realize what I’m doing, I lift my hand to my neck, frantically searching my hairline for a sore spot or the telltale minute lump that I would recognize as a tracking chip, but there’s nothing. My skin is smooth and pain-free.

Glancing around me, like the boy I’ve shared a house with for almost a year is going to jump out and say boo, I search the empty corners of the bathroom, my brow furrowed with confusion.

EM must signify Evan’s initials. He was here, in my room, for long enough to somehow attach a piece of jewelry to my ankle with his initials on it. But he didn’t put a tracker in me, or wake me up, or leave anything else behind.

Sighing, I look down at the puddle of water on the floor, feeling the wetness of my hair and the rapidly cooling dropson my body. Jumping to my feet, I step back under the water, making quick work of finishing my shower and washing and conditioning my hair while I search the ceiling for hidden cameras or recording devices.

Paranoia has me emptying the drawers in my dresser, lifting my mattress, and shaking everything, just to check that the anklet is the only thing Evan left behind. By the time I’m satisfied that there’s nothing in my room that he could use to monitor me, I sit back down in the middle of my bed and stare at my ankle.

Evan and I have a disappointing history. We’ve never dated, never been in a relationship, we’ve never even had sex—at least not proper sex. The one night we shared is still a blur. It happened, and we both know it, but we’ve never really talked about it. That night was our chance, but nothing came of it. So why now that I’ve moved on is he suddenly putting jewelry on me, like he has a right?

At the back of my mind, I think Evan and I could have been something, but he put this distance between us, and it’s too late to take it back now. In the last year, he’s watched me date all kinds of guys: nerds, jocks, fuckboys. None of them ever got a second date, and I wasn’t heartbroken, but he never cared then, so why is he encroaching on my life now?

The truth is, since I met Starling and Sebastian, a part of me has been searching for a love like theirs. Their relationship is messed up, but there’s no doubt that the love they share is bold, intense, and terrifying.

For a moment, when I first moved into Collinswood, I thought maybe Evan and I could have something like that. I’ve seen the way he looks at me. I’ve seen the jealousy flair in his eyes when he sees me with other guys. But when we had our chance, he choked. He thinks he’ll break me. He thinks he’ll ruin me, and I refuse to force him to love me.

In the past, no one has ever said anything about Evan’s and my obvious attraction, until this summer when, suddenly, Hunter started treating me like I was Evan’s. He even told Evan to “Keep his woman in line” when I questioned his and Bunny’s crazy fast marriage. But I’m not Evan’s, and I never have been.

Despite the difference in our socioeconomic statuses, I truly am one of the group when it comes to Starling, Sebastian, and the others. Starling is my bestie, but January and even Bunny, who I don’t know that well, are my closest friends. Sebastian is like the crazy over-protective older brother who I hate, but secretly adore, and both Hunter and Clay are great friends. But Evan has always been different.

He’s the only one of the group that I don’t text with or call. He’s the only one I’ve never been to dinner alone with or accepted a ride from. He’s the only one I’m rarely alone in a room with, and it’s not because we dislike each other. It’s because this thing that is constantly pulsing between us has stopped us from ever really becoming friends.

When I came home for summer break and Drew became a part of my life again, he never once acted like I belonged to him just because we had a past. He was my friend, although now I know he planned to ask me to marry him, the friendly things he’s done in the last six months take on a slightly different meaning.

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