Page 6 of Insurgent

I nod, quickly taking a sip of the whiskey and instantly regretting it. I cough and hand it back to her, wincing.

She laughs. “It’s rough, huh?”

“A little,” I agree.

My eyes scan the room for more familiar faces, and then I spot Danny’s brother, Samuel, with a group of his baseball buddies. Wow. He cleans up nice. I didn’t get to see his brother in a suit, but this is probably the second-best thing. I slightly shake my head.

No more Danny. Get him out of your mind.

At that moment Samuel spots me. His face lights up and it makes me smile.

“Hey,” he mouths.

“Hey,” I mouth back. He looks at his buddies and then back at me. With a slight tilt of his head, he signals for me to meet him by the drink table. It’s sneaky, and it almost makes me smile.

“I’ll be right back,” I tell Jessica.

“Okay,” she says.

Walking toward Samuel feels like slow motion. There’s this force, trying desperately to drag me back. I can feel the pull on my skin, the shake in my bones, but I clench my jaw and move forward.

“Life is about making choices, Bexley.”

Am I making a choice?

I believe I am.

Being with Danny is like watching a tornado. It’s fascinating. It’s a rush, a wonder even. So, you stand there staring, until something flies by nearly hitting you, and then the danger really sinks in. This could take you down.

Danny is fun and exciting and, God help me, I love him, but after the storm passes, there’s nothing but rubble and destruction. And I’m afraid I’m going to be the house left with only a foundation.

Truth is, I feel like I’ve been holding my breath, waiting for Danny to mess up.

It shouldn’t be this hard, should it? Relationships should be easier. Danny’s made me feel unimportant.

Never let anyone make you feel second-best.

When I make it over to the table, Samuel gives me his Samuel smirk and I exhale the air that’s been held captive inside my uneasy lungs. There’s a flutter of pain between them still, though, and I know that’s not going away any time soon.

I plaster on a smile for this boy, even though it feels like I’ve been stabbed.

He frowns. His eyes scan the room before landing back on me in an oh-so knowing way.

“Where is he?” he asks, his voice a bit deeper than I recall the last time we spoke. Wait, when was the last time we spoke?

I shrug, heartache winning this game I didn’t want to play. A tear spills from my eye, and Samuel watches it slide down my cheek.

Shit, shit, shit. Stay strong, Bexley. You can do this.

I swallow the enormous lump of agony in my throat as my hands begin to shake uncontrollably and a line of sweat rolls down my back, puddling at the bottom. My knees feel like piled ash, one wisp of the wind away from their demise. My spine prickles, my stomach swarms, and saliva forms thick in my mouth. I look up to see the bathroom, covering my mouth with my hand as I run toward it.

I hear my name coming from his lips as I find a stall and rid my body of toxic anguish. I heave until my ribs ache and sweat forms on my brow. I hear chatter from other girls in here, but they have no idea how real life is. They’re in this plastic bubble of Lip Smackers lip gloss and Victoria’s Secret Dream Angel Halo. They’re clueless.

“Hey, you can’t be in here,” one of the girls says.

“Sorry, one of my friends is sick. I just want to check on her. Can you ladies give us a moment, please?” I hear Samuel, and I smirk regardless of my situation. He’s a sweetheart and a smooth talker. Their chatter leaves the room, and I’ve never been more grateful for Samuel than I am right now.

“Bexley.” He taps on the door.

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