Page 19 of Landon & Shay: Part One

Monica was getting a bit of a big head from the cheering crowd. She was getting a little too confident in her current state. As she raised her hand to slap me again, I grabbed her wrist, stopping her.

One slap—okay, fine. To be honest, I probably had some karma catching up with me. Two slaps I could let go. I was sure I could’ve treated our past toxic relationship with more class during some moments. But three slaps?

Now you’re just getting greedy, Monica.

I tilted my head and gave her a small smirk and my puppy-dog eyes. “I’m sorry, okay?” I didn’t know what I was sorry about, but girls seemed to like to hear guys say that.

“Whatever, Landon. You’re a jerk.”

I saw her kind of smile, though, as if she enjoyed this interaction. At least someone was enjoying themselves. I was still dealing with a stinging face.

Still alive.

“Don’t worry, Monica. Nothing happened. Trust me…”—Shay looked my way and eyed me up and down with disdain in her gaze—“nothing willeverhappen between us.”

She turned and walked away, and for some reason, I felt the impulse to follow her, to tell her why her comment was wrong, and how I was going to grow on her like the bad toxin I was, one she’d have to rid her soul of down the line.

But I stayed in place.

My eyes darted to the crowd hovering around Monica and me. “Get busy or get lost,” I hissed, glaring at the circle of people. They hurried away and got back to the party, leaving Monica and me standing there alone.

“You disgust me,” she muttered, standing high in heels that were probably killing her feet. “You aren’t shit. You know that? You’re worthless in this world.”

I flinched. “You’re drunk.”

“It’s a party—everyone’s drunk…except for you and Little Miss Perfect,” she sneered, referring to Shay.There’s the charming girl I’ve always known you to be.“I bet she fucks to the theme song fromMister Rogers’ Neighborhoodwith her boring ass.”

I was hardly listening to her anymore. Most of the time, I let her comments slide because I knew her story. I knew the mess that was her life. I’d seen her wrinkled pages and bent corners. Some pages were torn from her book, hiding the darkest parts of her, and I was the only one who’d ever been able to read them. If she needed a punching bag, I’d take her hits, but that didn’t mean it didn’t mess me up sometimes, leaving me battered and bruised.

“You should probably head home,” I suggested.

“I was planning on it anyway. Your party blows,” she said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Don’t forget to go take a dip in the pool, Landon, in honor of your uncle,” she muttered, walking away.

Why would she do that?

Why would she say some bullshit like that just to spite me? To hurt me? To know someone else was suffering other than herself?

I stood there, frozen in place, with the thought of Lance on my mind, and then, like a waterfall, all thoughts of him came rushing back to me. I couldn’t breathe as people pushed around me, partying, drinking, not noticing the panic attack consuming me, not noting the pain in my soul, which felt like it was being lit on fire.

I wanted to drown.

I wanted to drown so bad tonight. In vodka. In whiskey. In tequila. In tears.

I looked to my left and found one set of eyes staring at me. As everyone else looked through me, those eyes watched me as if I were a case study, a mouse in a cage being experimented on. A set of beautiful, sad eyes pierced my soul. Shay was the only one who bothered to look my way, and she was doing that same shit she’d done in the closet earlier. She was reading me, digging deep into my psyche and exploring my pages, unwelcomed.

Stop it, Shay.

I forced myself to move and pushed past her, brushing against her shoulder. “If you’re not going to blow me then stop staring at me, sunshine,” I huffed out.

“Don’t call me sunshine,” she said.

Then, stop being so damn bright.

I didn’t know what time everyone left my place, but I assumed Greyson gave them a nudge to leave at some point after one a.m. When everyone was gone, when all that remained were empty hallways in my trashed house, I headed into the pool area. Our indoor pool was surrounded by glass walls so you could see all of nature yet still swim during the chilly Illinois winters.

“What’s the point of having a swimming pool in Illinois if you can’t use it all year round?” Mom had said years ago while designing the house.

The pool glistened under the full moon.Full moon…Lance’s birthday would land on a full moon this year. Part of me wanted to howl at it. Another part of me wanted to cry.

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