Page 50 of The Casualty of Us
And from the multitude of messages that he sent and I quickly scrolled through while trying not to look at anything too closely….
His have been bludgeoned to a guilty pulp, while mine have been shredded to a point.
Fucking messy. All of it.
Him, especially.
Which is why he can do his time for the crime while I ease back into existing within the same sphere as him until the ache isn’t quite so deep. Then once that’s done, we can find some common ground of ignoring each other whenever possible, and everything will be fine. Perfectly fine.
Marley stumbles as we come up on the table, but I don’t falter at all in plopping down in my usual seat and giving everyone a wide grin. Immediately noticing the way their conversation comes to a sudden halt and how Ollie tenses up beside me. How Holden’s eyes are moving between everyone so quickly they’re practically jumping out of his skull and how Marley sits down so slowly it’s like she’s scared any sudden moves will cause that riot. And how…
How Hayes sits across from me.
Purple bags under his eyes. Clothes wrinkled and his tie hanging loose around his neck with his hair still wet. Not one but two shadowy bruises on the right side of his face and both cheeks a little red, like he’s been running or something.
Looking like someone just slowly skinned a puppy in front of him.
Not a dimple or sparkle in sight.
With a full breakfast tray and tea sitting there untouched between us.
Fucking asshole.
Stupid, stupid, fucking sad little rock star—
Nope. Get it together.
“So how was everyone’s break?” I prop my elbow up on the table and drop my head into my hand. “I missed you guys.”
About five seconds of resounding silence fills the table before everyone starts to try talking at once.
“Well, you were there, so—”
“My mother—”
“O—”
“It was—”
I turn to Holden since he’s the easiest for me. “How was seeing your dad?”
“It was good.” He gives me a small smile. “We drove up to my grandma’s when he had a couple of days off and spent some time with the extended family.”
“That can be fun.” I grin back before dipping my head side to side. “Depending on the family.”
“True.” He laughs. “Most of them are a good time, though, so it wasn’t too bad.”
“O.”
I can’t help but tense for a second at the rasp of a letter—my letter—before pushing my lips up even more and turning my head to the person across from me. “Yeah?”
“I have breakfast and your tea—”
“No, that’s okay, I—” It only takes that long for me to have to drop my eyes, breaking our gaze and moving mine to some pointover his right ear so that I can get the rest out with my smile in place. “Thanks, but I already had some.”
Because if I look at him right now—really look at him—if I let the blue meet the hazel for too long…it all might come bubbling up, and I might scream or cry or something equally embarrassing.
And I fucking hate to be embarrassed.
