Page 55 of Things I Wish I Said
I bite my lip and stare out the window. “I know you don’t really want to take me to this party. If you’d rather go alone, you can drop me off somewhere.”
“What? No.” His attention jerks from the road to me. “Where would I even take you?”
I stare out the passenger side window, unable to look at him. “I don't know. Sometimes I hang at the soccer field.”
I watch his reflection in the window, and even though I can’t see him well enough to make out his expression, I can hear the pain in his voice when he says, “I’m not taking you somewhere and dropping you off, Sinclair.”
I turn. “I’d be cool with it. You spent some time with my mom and even met her boyfriend. We’re good. I mean, that’s the whole point, right?”
“It’s not that I don’t want to take you,” he says, ignoring everything I just said.
“It’s just not the first place I’d choose to take you. It’s not . . . wholesome.”
“Wholesome?” I laugh.
He shrugs.
“Damn. I don’t know whether to be pleased or insulted.”
Grayson growls and shoves a hand through his dark hair when he comes to a stoplight. “It’s just the last year has been weird for me, and I usually go to Kip’s parties—”
“To get high?”
He hesitates before he nods. “I’m not proud of it.”
“Have you ever used anything other than . . .?”
“Weed?” He glances over at me and answers with a firm “No.”
I exhale, relieved. Not that I find his smoking anything okay. I don’t. He has no idea how fucking lucky he is to have lungs that function properly. But even more than that, I don’t know that I could handle more than that with everything of my own going on.
“It’s a party, Grayson. I won’t break. I mean, yeah, I’m sick.” My throat bobs and I hate the hot prickle of tears at the back of my eyes. “I woke up this morning, and for the first time in a while, I didn’t cough. My chest didn’t ache when I got out of bed or went for my morning walk. It’s a good day. I feel good. And for one night, I just want to be a normal eighteen-year-old. I no longer have soccer, but I have a lot of time to sit and think about all the experiences I’ve missed out on. All the things Inever got to do, the parties I never went to, dances I skipped, friends I didn’t make. I mean, what if this is it?”
My stomach burns at the thought.
“What if this is all I’ll ever have? All I’ll ever be? We could skip this party, I could get my scans next week and find out I’m dying, and I’ll have missed this, too.”
I tear my eyes from him to the street in front of us, feeling the fatigue of the last six months weighing heavily in my bones. “Hoping for tomorrow while not living for today is fucking exhausting.”
He’s silent for what feels like the span of a lifetime. I have no idea what he’s thinking. I don’t even know if he heard me, or maybe he doesn’t care.
Maybe he’s the smart one between the two of us and he’s keeping a careful distance between this thing with me, his feelings, and his real life. I don’t have that luxury because I have nothing else. This is my life, all of it.
“Okay, Sinclair. You win. The party it is.”
Chapter thirteen
RYLEIGH
I never would’ve expecteda party thrown by a kid named Kip to be like this.
The massive three-story home sits inside a gated community and down a long, winding driveway lined with crape myrtle, lush with pink blooms. My entire house could probably fit in the garage alone, and it dawns on me with stunning clarity that this is probably what Grayson’s house is like.
We park beside the other cars lining the driveway and step outside into the humid night air. Music blares in the distance, mingling with the echo of voices. There has to be well over twenty cars here, and based on the sounds coming from the backyard as we round the house, I’m guessing that doesn’t account for the amount of people inside.
For the first time since Cameron mentioned the party, I question whether pushing Grayson to bring me was a smart idea. I’m well aware that I’m completely out of my depth here, but that doesn’t stop the tickle of excitement in the pit of my stomach asGrayson takes my hand and guides me around the back of the house.
When we finally clear the garage and the party comes into view, my mouth drops. The backyard is massive and packed with bodies. My eyes sweep over the people clustered on the patio, drinking out of plastic cups and lounging on deck furniture I’m willing to bet cost more than most of the stuff inside my house.
