Page 14 of Not Made to Last

7

Rhys

After a good hour of playing ball and talking shit, none of which has to do with two specific boys in her life, we give up for the night and sit on the bed of her truck, my phone softly playing music she seems to enjoy.

“What a wild night,” she says through a sigh. She’d taken my hoodie off while we were playing, and now she puts it back on, releasing her hair from its knot so she can slip the hood over her head.

For a long moment, we sit in silence, staring ahead, and surprisingly, it’s not awkward or unbearable. I’ve always disliked people who need to speak just to fill the dead air with even deader words. So, this? Sitting quietly with her, it’s almost… comforting.

She’s the first to speak, saying, “So, I was thinking about what you said earlier, about the loneliness thing…” Swear, I hope she doesn’t ruin the fucking moment. “I don’t know if it’s normal. If it’s an unconscious choice not to let people in or whatever… but, I don’t know…” She pauses, inhaling deeply,before adding, “You said you live alone in a big house, and I… I live with people in a small house, and I still get lonely.”

For a full minute, the only sound that forms between us is the single, quiet clearing of her throat. She doesn’t look at me, and I’m too damn afraid of what I’ll feel when I look at her.

Maybe getting hit by a car wasn’t the best thing that could’ve happened to me tonight.

But getting hit by a car driven by Olivia definitely was.

I release my breath, slowly, slowly, and I wish I could say something. Something to show that her words have meaning, that they’re not dead like the air around us. Like the soul that wonders what it would be like to jump off the edge. Instead, I tell her, “Is that an invitation to come over?” I’m an idiot, but I don’t stop there. “Because I could cure your loneliness real quick, Cheeks.”

Olivia scoffs, but it’s clear she wasn’t expecting anything else out of me. Smart girl. “Oh yeah. Dominic would love that.”

Right. Dominic The Dominator. Stupid name. So stupid, I almost forgot about his existence. “So, I take it you’re not going to tell him about tonight… about me?”

“No,” she laughs—as if the idea itself is ludicrous.

“Why not?” I ask. “It’s not as if we planned it.”

“Because if he knew it was you I hit, he’d tell me to one: hit you harder. Two: reverse and hit you again. Three: all of the above, then leave you there.”

“Holy shit.” It’s my turn to laugh. “He hates me that much?”

She nudges my side with hers. “You stole his girlfriend, Rhys!”

My eyes widen, because just like his existence, I’d forgotten about that, too. But… hold up. “Is that where his story ends?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she accuses.

“Look,” I say, hands up in mock surrender, “I’m just saying, whatever history your brother and I have, it’s got nothing to do with us—you and me.”

“There is no us,” she says, defiant, and nah.

Fuck that.

I grab my phone from between us, tap it a few times. “So… he wouldn’t be too happy if I tagged him in a pic of us together?”

“You wouldn’t!” She tries to grab the phone from my hand, but I hold it away from her.

“I wonder if he’d recognize you with your eyes covered,” I murmur through a chuckle, trying to handle my phone with one hand while I tug down on her hood. It only covers half her face, so her mouth is still visible, and I shove down the urge to kiss her.

Just once.

Just to curb my curiosity.

I keep hold of the hood while I snap shot after shot of nothing, laughing at her panic every time the fake shutter of my phone sounds. “Don’t you dare,” she practically squeals. And then she’s on me, trying to get the phone from my grasp, and I can’t stop laughing. Neither can she. I fall onto my back and release the hood when she climbs over me, and I stretch out my arm, keeping it from her reach. The hood still covers her eyes, because she’s too busy using both her hands to blindly search for my phone.

She’s practically feeling me up—warm hands gliding over my stomach, my chest. She finds my shoulder and follows my arm up, up, up, and I’m shaking from withheld laughter because she’s got the wrong fucking arm.

“Give it to me!” she almost growls, right in my ear, and I swear to God, I’m rock fucking hard.

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