Page 92 of Landon & Shay: Part One

“Landon!”

“You need to—”

“Why her?!” she screamed, tossing her hands up in the air in frustration.

“What?”

“Why…” Her voice cracked. “Her?” Her eyes watered and her body shook, and I knew it wasn’t from whatever drug was invading her body. Her emotions were taking over, overwhelming her to the point that they had no other escape but to leak from her tear ducts. “Why not me? Why couldn’t you fall in love with me?”

“Monica, don’t do this. You know why that’s never going to be a thing. You and I are toxic.”

“Yeah, likeRomeo and Juliet. Don’t you see? I want to be your Juliet. I’m meant to be your Juliet, not her. She doesn’t deserve you.”

Lies.

I didn’t deserve Shay. I didn’t deserve her, and yet I couldn’t stop craving her.

I didn’t reply to Monica, because she was high and emotional. It was a pointless conversation. I just wished she would finish her sandwich and head home. I was tired of this ride Monica had been taking me on for the past few years. It was giving me motion sickness.

“So that’s it, huh? You’re just going to give me the silent treatment?” she hissed. “You’re just going to ignore me? Well, screw you, Harrison!” She picked up the plate and threw it across the room, making it shatter against the wall.

There she was, angry Monica. Shocking.

“Okay,” I muttered, standing up from my chair. “It’s time for you to go now.” I moved over to lift her from her chair, and she swatted my hand away.

“I don’t need your help,” she seethed, standing—and stumbling—on her own. “I don’t need anyone’s help.”

She started walking toward the front door, and I followed, though not too closely.

As she stepped out on the porch, she turned to look at me. “Just to be clear, Landon, I wasn’t your toxicity. I wasn’t your poison. You were born sick like your fucked-up uncle, and anyone who comes near you gets infected with your disease. So, fuck you for judging me when you’re the one who made me this way!” she cried.

I didn’t say a word. She was too far gone for common sense.

She shoved my chest. “Eventually, you’re going to snap. You’re going to show your true colors. You’re going to rage, and I hope your stupid Juliet witnesses it all—your lowest lows, the ones you put me through nonstop, you asshole. Your time is almost up. Tick tock, jerk.”

She shoved me again, and I allowed it. She was hurting and angry and lost, and I understood all of those things. If I was forced to be her punching bag, I’d take her hits.

“Fight back,” she demanded as she kept hitting me, kept pushing me, kept begging me. She was asking me to snap, to fall back into the darkness with her, to paint her shadows with my companionship, but I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t dance our old dance, couldn’t be who she wanted me to be anymore. I was changing, because Shay believed in my growth. She believed in me.

And I was starting to do the same.

“Fight, Landon!”

“No.” My voice was controlled and solid.

She hit me a few more times, but I didn’t crumble. I didn’t fight back. I didn’t break with her.

“Fine!” She finally stepped away and started down the steps. “Have fun with your stupid play and your stupid Juliet and your stupid make-believe fairy tale. But, spoiler alert, Romeo!” she shouted, her hands still gesturing all over dramatically. “You both fucking die in the end!”

She stomped away, back to her house, still cursing me and still up in flames.

I waited on the porch for her to get safely inside.

Later that night, when Monica’s mom pulled the car into the driveway, I walked over to speak with her. Mrs. Cole wasn’t the biggest fan of me, and to be fair, I wasn’t a fan of hers either. She was a nasty woman who I’d witness belittle Monica’s looks on the regular. Every crash diet Monica ever had, was due to her mother’s orders. It must’ve been easy for Mrs. Cole to judge other people’s bodies, seeing how hers was nearly all made at a plastic surgery clinic in Mexico.

“Mrs. Cole. Can I talk to you for a minute?” I asked.

She looked at me, seemingly already bothered by the fact I was speaking her way. Her eyes moved up and down as she studied me. Her gaze flicked upward. “What is it, boy?”

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