Page 133 of Beyond the Lines
Despite everything, I laugh. “Only seventeen?”
“The others would definitely be traced back to me.” She shrugs. “Text me if you need anything.”
I nod, grabbing my jacket and purse. As I head for the door, I pause. “Em? Thanks for supporting me.”
“Always,” she says, already starting to clean up our abandoned snack. “That’s what friends are for.”
Outside, the evening air is crisp. I pull my jacket tighter around me and start walking, my steps determined despite the tears still drying on my cheeks. The campus paths are quieter than usual, most students already settled in for the night or at weekend parties.
The weight of Mike’s words sits heavy in my chest, but with each step toward Declan’s apartment, I feel something else growing alongside it—certainty. Certainty that for once in my life, I’m not overreacting or being too emotional.
Certainty that all I want, all Ineed,is Declan.
I’ve never been good at admitting that I need someone. It always felt like a weakness, a confirmation of everything my parents believe about me. But right now, walking to him with tears drying on my cheeks, it feels like the strongest thing I’ve ever done.
twenty-nine
DECLAN
A knockon my door sends my heart racing—I’ve been pacing the length of my apartment for the past hour, phone clutched in my hand like it might suddenly transform into Lea if I hold it tight enough.
I tried to text her. Tried to call her. Nothing. Radio silence.
I’d thought about going over to her dorm, but I figured Mike would be headed right there to confront his sister. I’d texted and called to give her the heads-up, but I’d estimated that the worst thing I could do was have another run-in with Mike in front of Lea.
If that happened, not only would she see her brother and lover arguing, but there was every chance she’d see us fighting as well. I have no doubt that Mike would be happy to take another swing, and I’m not sure I could restrain myself if I saw Mike had upset Lea.
So instead, I’d texted and tried to call, but got nothing back.
And, of course, that led to worry that Mike had already gotten to her.
And that now she’s done with me.
Be Mike, I think as I approach the door.Take a swing at me.
But then I open the door, and it’s Lea.
Finally.
Her mascara is smudged under her eyes, creating shadows that make the green of her irises look almost radioactive. Her hair is wild, like she’s been drumming her fingers through it. She looks as disheveled and as beautiful as that day in the bathroom together.
“Lea,” I breathe, relief flooding through me.
“Hi,” she says, her voice small.
“Hi,” I say, resisting the urge to ask questions and instead opening my arms.
She steps into them without hesitation, pressing her face against my chest and wrapping her arms around my waist. I hold her tightly, burying my face in her curls. She’s trembling slightly, or maybe I am. It’s hard to tell where her body stops and mine begins.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper into her hair.
“Don’t.” Her voice is muffled against my chest. “Just… give me a minute…”
I do, holding her without speaking, although we back inside and close the door. My apartment is silent except for the hum of the refrigerator and the distant sound of a neighbor’s TV through the walls. After a long moment, she pulls back slightly, looking up at me.
“Are you OK?” I ask, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.
“Let’s go with ‘operational.’” Her smile wobbles. “Wow, your jaw looks bad.”
