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I narrow my eyes on her. “Did Jesse call you?”

“Jesse?” she grunts in confusion. “No. Why would he call me? He basically forgot I exist after I turned him down the other week.”

“You turned him down?” I mumble into my pillow that smells faintly of Nate. Reminding me again, that it’s a smell I’m going to have to forget.

“Yeah,” she says. “I couldn’t screw him after dating Max. I’m not ready for that yet, even though it would have been incredible and a great way to get back at Max, but I’m just not ready. I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

I slowly nod my head. “I know the feeling.”

“We’ll get there,” she tells me. “It sucks, but we’ll eventually move on.”

Yeah… nah. I don’t see that happening.

“Come on,” she says. “There’s a party at Crystal Summers’ place tonight. Why don’t you come with me? We can dress up, look hot, and show those boys what they’re missing.”

I don’t respond and she leans over the top of me to get a good look at my face. “Please?” she begs with big puppy dog eyes. “Don’t you want to slut it up and stick it to him?”

“No,” I groan. “He didn’t hurt me in the same way that Max hurt you.”

“What about getting so trashed you can’t feel it anymore? So wasted you forget all about Nate Ryder?” Fuck, that sounds good. “You need to get out,” Brooke continues as she sees the idea starting to grow on me. “Be a little wild. Reckless. Go crazy. Do something you never thought you’d do in a million years.”

“Reckless?” I murmur.

She gives me a smug grin as though she’s won something. “Yeah.”

An idea strikes and I can’t help but grin back at her. “I can be reckless.” I mean, what do I have to lose? Nate left me. My father left. My Nanna died. What does it matter if I’m a little reckless?

“Good,” Brooke says. “But before you go apeshit crazy and show the world that you’re the new bitch in town… you need to shower first. I mean, good lord. It smells like an ass died up in here.”

“Fine.”

With that, I throw the blankets off me and grab my pillow. You know, the one that smells like him. First things first, I pull the pillow out of the cover and find myself a pair of scissors. “What the hell are you doing?” Brooke shrieks.

“It smells like him,” I tell her as I stab the pillow and start shredding it to pieces. “How am I supposed to move on if I’m coming home every night to a pillow that reminds me of him?”

“Good point,” she grunts before grabbing the sheets off the bed and ripping them back. “In that case, your bed needs a makeover.”

Pain rips through me. I was wanting to hold onto those sheets. Nate and I have done many naughty things between them, but this is a good thing. Brooke is right again. In order to move on, I can’t be holding onto the past. “I need a ‘Nate’ box.”

“A what box?”

“A ‘Nate’ box. All the things he’s given me, all the little reminders, all the special things. They’re going in a box and I’m throwing it away.”

“Good idea,” she says. “I’ll fill your ‘Nate’ box while you shower.”

“K,” I grunt, walking towards the bathroom.

“Wait,” she calls out. “Where the hell do you keep boxes?”

I explain where she needs to go and a second later, she dashes out the door. I go to walk back to the bathroom when I start truly thinking about this Nate box. Can I really get rid of this stuff? I remember the shirt he had given me the night of the pool party. It felt like a second skin to me. That night was the first time Nate and I had talked to one another like decent human beings. That night… it was special. I had gone home the next morning and taken the shirt with me, claiming it as my own. It was so right and the thought of parting with that kills me.

I look back to the door and run. I dig through my drawers, searching out the shirt and finally feel the fabric between my fingers. No, I definitely can’t throw this away. I desperately look around the room for somewhere Brooke can’t find it and see my couch. I unzip one of the cushions and slide the fabric in, being careful not to let it look too lumpy.

Feeling like I’ve done a good enough job, I walk into the bathroom and close the door behind me. The second the door closes, my bedroom one opens.

Crap. That was close.

I reach into the shower and turn the taps before stepping back and waiting for the water to warm. I strip off my pajamas which I’ve been wearing for a few days and step into the water. Closing my eyes, the water cascades down over my head and helps me feel somewhat normal.


Tags: Sheridan Anne Broken Hill High Romance