Page 92 of Every Broken Promise
“Astrid.” Ty came right behind me. He took hold of my arm, stopping me from getting to my car. The same car where we had sex.
Everything I had been ignoring came rushing back at me. Out of all the places to have sex with him, it had to be on the hood of my car. I could avoid the auto shop forever, but changing cars was not that simple.
“Collin was just?—”
I cut him off before he could finish.
“You know, Ty…” I hated how my tone quivered. “It would be nice if you could have my back instead of his.”
Tyler flinched. I could see the pain in his eyes, but I didn’t care.
What about my pain?
“I really needed you that day,” I said, hating how broken my voice sounded.
“Beautiful.” It was a pained whisper.
“Everyone was mad at me for ruining prom, and you didn’t do anything to stop it.”
I had tears in my eyes, and when I blinked, one of them sprang free. Ty’s eyes looked just as glossy as mine did. “After all this time, it still hurts.”
THIRTY-THREE
Prom Night
Astrid was beautiful.It was something I had come to terms with a long time ago, but I was able to push that fact to the back of my mind—otherwise it would drive me insane.
Tonight it was front and center.
Astrid wasn’t just beautiful, she was a fucking vision.
I was trying so fucking hard not to stare like a creep whenever she walked by me. Her hair was down in pretty waves, and I could catch a shimmer when the light would hit it from a certain angle.
That dress on her—fuck.
I had always thought she was like sunshine, but today she was the whole damn sky. Her dress was blue, with sequins everywhere, making her sparkle at every turn. I literally couldn’t keep my eyes off her.
“Tyyyy.” Samantha’s whinny voice reminded me that I should be focusing on my date and not on my best friend.
“Want to dance?” I pointed toward the makeshift dance floor.
Samantha wrapped her hands around my neck possessively and then proceeded to lead me to the dance floor. Sam was a coolchick, especially when we were alone, but it was when we were around other people that she got clingy and territorial—and that shit annoyed me.
Then I felt like an asshole because I knew the problem wasn’t entirely Sam; the problem was me.
A few dances later, I was sitting down with Sam in my lap while she carried on talking to one of her friends. When she did this, I would usually tune her out, but it was kind of hard to do when she was sitting on me.
“I mean, if I were her, I wouldn’t even bother to show up,” Carrie said.
“She couldn’t even get a date,” Sam added.
At that, I finally began to pay attention to what they were saying.
“Look at her dancing with all the losers.” Carrie laughed, and when I followed her gaze, I realized they could only be talking about Astrid.
My chest tightened, and my stomach churned at their words. Rage coursed through me, but also guilt.
Astrid didn’t have a date because of me.
