Page 22 of King of My Heart

And tomorrow, I might get that chance. That one thought I would fall asleep to every night comes back to the forefront of my mind.

If I ever get to see Rach again…

Everything crossed my mind. That’s how I would find Morpheus—imagining all the things I would say to my lover. All the things I would do to her. How I would cherish her. All the sorry’s I owed her.

Can I do it? Can I look her in the eyes and tell her how much I love her? How much I want to be hers again, and her mine?

* * *

The next day, I blow out a candle with Jake as promised. We share one like we did at the orphanage when we were kids. The Murrays are here, Chris looking like the happiest foster brother in the universe. Luke and Jamie are here too, singing Happy Birthday and keeping the mood up for everyone. They all try to convince me to go to the party at Luke’s, but I can’t get myself to see people. So they all offer to cancel and stay with me…I don’t want that, either. It’s too much, and I feel incapable of keeping the illusion for that long.

I’m back. I should be happy, and yet I feel like a fraud. Every minute of every second, I feel like I’m lying to everyone, pretending to be someone I’m not. In truth, I just don’t really know who I am or who I’m meant to be anymore. Too many people fucked with my brain, with my body, with my personality. I’ve been a puppet for too long, and I don’t know what it’s like to be myself anymore. No, all I know is that need burning deep inside me.

I made a decision. A selfless choice for once in my life, especially when it comes to my heart. That I will leave Rachel alone. I don’t think it would be good for any of us to see each other.

She probably has a life now. Rach was adamant she wouldn’t marry Conor McGill. Instead, she must be happy with whatever she’s doing or…whoever she’s with. I can’t just barge into that life and fuck it all up. Because I would. I would break it all apart and mess it all up for her, just so I could have her to myself. She would let me too. Rachel and I share something special. She could not share what we had with anyone else, and she would drop whatever superficial love she has for them for me. She’d leave it all behind the second I showed up. I would expect her to and she would do it, then who knows where that would lead us.

It’s better to stay away. For both of us. Hopefully, she left Stoneview like she always dreamt and found a girl who doesn’t break up with her whenever she wants to sleep with someone else. Someone who shows her love by being there for her, not by being a possessive bitch. Someone who isn’t me. That’s the best I could have hoped for her.

It’s around 8:30 p.m. when I light up another cigarette by my window. Two doors down, I can hear Luke’s house booming with music. I can imagine the people arriving slowly. The girls hanging around Jake, and Jamie’s stern face, silently cursing them.

I can imagine Luke chatting to all the Stoneview girls he’s never going to call again, bragging about life in L.A. and how he’s going to change his dad’s company in the best way. Chris is probably drinking silently while keeping a watchful eye on how many shots my twin takes.

And Rachel is there. On her own or in the arms of another girl. Another woman she showed the dark side of herself to, taking away what was so special about us. Taking away what mademespecial to her.

I no longer feel special to anyone anymore, and I wonder if I’ll ever be. I have a universal beauty that everyone loves. I have beautiful traits that have always attracted people. They think it makes me unique, but it’s always the same, isn’t it? They find me heavenly beautiful, and they fall for me. I take advantage of them, and we end up sharing nothing but a vague memory of average sex and a hangover.

Except with Rachel. I stub my cigarette on the windowsill and look up at the stars as I blow out smoke into the night air.

My heart accelerates, my stomach tightens, and my lips tingle.Rachel.

6

RACHEL

High Enough– K. Flay

“Here you go.” I fake a smile as I hand Conor a tumbler filled with whiskey and coke.

He practically rips it from me, not caring that he’s spilling most of his drink before it even reaches his mouth.

“Why don’t you drink anything?” he asks. “It’s a party, Rachel. Have fun.”

It takes all of me not to roll my eyes. I’m finding it hard to breathe right now. Drinking and partying aren’t exactly at the top of my list.

“The doctor said I shouldn’t drink while we try to conceive,” I lie.

“His advice is shit. It ain’t working,” he slurs.

How is he already drunk? Surely, he should have a little more tolerance with how much he drinks daily.

“We wouldn’t know if it’s working, Conor. We have to give it a few months.” I feel sick talking about this. It always makes me feel sick, no matter how hard I try to pretend I want it.

“Well, I don’t see a fucking baby in you. Do you?”

“Ssh, will you keep your voice down, please?” I plead as I look around to see if anyone has heard us.

It’s not that I’m ashamed we’re ‘struggling’ to have a child. I’m ashamed we’re even trying. I’m nineteen. I don’t want a baby. I’ve never wanted one. I never wanted a boyfriend to start with, least of all a fiancé. EspeciallynotConor.

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