“I really hoped I’d never see you again.” The words tumble out, even though they don’t do my feelings justice, not even close.
I force myself to stare at the tracks. I won’t remember him, not like this, not with his shirt clinging to his muscular chest and arms and that handsome twist to his lips. I won’t think about what we had and what he took from me.
He laughs like that’s the funniest thing he’s heard all night. “That’s not the welcome I expected.”
“Then you’re stupider than I realized.”
“It’s been a while. You look good.”
“Fuck you.” I glare at him now, unable to help myself. He steps a little closer. “Leave me alone, Rian.”
He runs a hand through his wet hair like a freaking model on a photoshoot. I hate how gorgeous his arms are and how the water drips from his nose and down his cheeks. He stares at me with that plastered-on grin, like he’s measuring me and wondering what I’m like now, like he’s enjoying what he’s seeing and doesn’t want to turn away.
It’s been eight years. Eight long, hard years. I was a sophomore and he was a senior when Megan died, and we haven’t spoken to each other since after the accident, since I visited him in the hospital and told him exactly what I thought. Not a single word in eight long years, and now there he is, looming up near the tracks and looking at me like he’s amused.
I grip the umbrella tightly.
“That’s going to be hard to do since I’m assigned to keep an eye on you.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll get my dad to pick someone else.”
“Sorry, Daley. There’s nobody else. I’m the only one that volunteered. You think anyone wants to follow you around and make sure you don’t get yourself killed, especially right now? It’s not exactly a glamorous job, and you haven’t made many friends in the family.”
I grind my teeth. The idea that he volunteered for this, that he knew what he was getting himself into, drives me absolutely insane. I can’t imagine what he was thinking, volunteering for something like this, when he knows damn well how I feel about him.
I didn’t hold back all those years ago. You’re a liar and a murderer, and I hope you rot in hell.
What kills me the most is, I don’t understand why my father would think this is a good idea. He knows what I was like back then. He knows how I feel about Rian. Why assign him to me now when I’m finally getting myself together? Why throw me back into the abyss?
“Let’s get something straight.” I turn to him, my umbrella tilted forward slightly. “You mean nothing to me. You’re just a guy that’s following me around, and the first chance I get to ditch you, I’m going to take it. You’re less than nothing to me, Rian. You’re beneath my contempt. Whatever might’ve happened in the past stays in the past. We’re strangers now.”
His smile cuts through the darkness. He’s just as gorgeous as he was back in school, except harder now, sharper. Like the years haven’t been kind to him, but they molded his body and his attitude into a more intense and terrifying version of the boy he used to be. This new Rian, this clan Rian, he’s a man I don’t know and don’t understand, but so much history lurks beneath the surface and twists between every word we say.
“Come on, Daley, no need to act like that. This is going to be fun. I’ll get to shadow you and watch your pretty ass stroll through life like everything is all candy and roses, and you get to call me an asshole and abuse me whenever you want. It’s win-win.”
“You’re such a prick.”
“That’s the spirit.”
“God, nothing’s changed. You’re still the same arrogant asshole you were back then. And you know what? Your arrogance isn’t fucking cute anymore.” I take a step forward, simmering with hate. “Because it got my fucking friend killed.”
His face falters. Nearby, a train whistle blares. I say nothing and he says nothing as the light comes around the bend, a monolithic brightness that makes every sharp angle of his cheeks stand out in stark relief. He’s beautiful, and the way his hair clings to his face, the thin cotton shirt, the tattoos, it only amplifies his beauty a hundred-fold. I hate that he looks like this, after all these years, and I hate myself even more for noticing. I want him to stop looking at me, but at least his smile is gone, wiped away by the truth of what happened.
The train pulls into the station. A couple of figures jump out of nearby parked cars and hurry to the doors. The conductor gets out with an umbrella, and I storm to the steps. I climb up with Rian on my heels and make my way past the rows of seats toward the next car. I sit near the front, and Rian takes the spot across from mine. An older man in a business suit shuffles past, followed by a young guy in cutoff jeans with a backpack. The doors shut and the train moves on.