ChapterFive
ELSY
The sting of my hand is bittersweet. Damn, it felt good to do it, but it was heart shaking to not only touch him again but to see him. He’s different, and I could sense it from the second I spotted him. I swear it was like I felt him before my eyes found him. I’ve always been connected to Keaton since we were kids, but this was deeper, and I didn’t understand it. If anything, what we shared should have faded over time.
One thing is for damn sure, and that’s that Keaton is no longer a boy. Has he spent the last six years in the gym full-time or something? When we were younger, he was always on the taller side—it’s why he did track—but he’s at least a foot taller than the last time I saw him. He was lean back then, but he’s doubled in body mass, and it’s hard and crazy hot. I clench my teeth, trying not to think about it.
Why did he have to get sexy? Hell, why is he here?! Of all the times he could’ve shown up, this would be it. Why now and why the hell here at my birthday party? I have to fight the tears so I can focus on my anger. Did he think that because we were in public, I would pretend to be nice and smile or put on a show? Unlike the rest of the world, I’m not scared of the Lones. They’ve already done their worst to me, so I’ve got nothing left to fear.
“Elsy!” I pause on the stone steps that lead up to the back patio of the house. “Are you dipping out of your own party?” Oliver asks.
“I need a moment.”
“I think you just had a moment.” He motions with his head back toward the tent.
“Do you think a lot of people saw that?”
He shrugs, not really answering my question. “He’s the reason, isn’t he?” I nod, answering the rest of his question. Of course Keaton is the reason I’ve never dated. Or even moved on, for that matter.
It’s stupid because I told him he wasn’t getting a second chance. If I truly believed that, wouldn’t I have tried to start dating? At first that was why I hadn’t dated, but then as time stretched on, I’d told myself it was because I was focusing on my education. What’s my reasoning now?
Fucking Keaton.
Why can’t I get over him? Once, when I was in college, I did a study on heartbreak and how long it lasted as one of my research papers. Unfortunately, there’s no definitive answer beyond surveys, and the longest said a year and a half—and that was if you were married. The others said between six and nine months. I’m on year six!
“I really do need a moment.”
“Do what you need. People are eating and drinking, and I’ll start the music.”
“Thank you, Oliver.” He gives me a nod before he goes back into the tent so I can finish my escape. In my head, I’d played out what would happen if I ever ran into Keaton again. I was going to play it cool and pretend to be indifferent. Clearly, I didn’t stick to that plan.
I need space from everyone and the noise. My emotions are overwhelming, and I’m not sure how I truly feel right now. I enter my bedroom and push the lock before I lean against the door. I swipe at the tears that slide down my cheeks now that I’m alone.
“I hate when you cry.” I gasp at the deep rumble of Keaton’s voice. It’s changed some, but I’d know that sound anywhere.
“Lights on.” My bedroom floods with light, and there Keaton is sitting on the bench in front of my bed. How did he get up here before me? He might have slipped around the side or something, but what does that matter now? “I’m not crying.” I’ve already wiped the tears away so he can’t tell.
“I saw them.”
“Key, it was pitch black in here.” That’s the only response I can muster because he’s right.
“Who’s the guy in the bow tie?”
Is that really what he’s asking me right now? And why is the only thought in my head about how good he looks in that damn suit? He never filled out his debate suit that way. He really has changed, but it seems like we both have.
“Maybe if you’d been around, you’d know.”
“He’s the party planner.” He answers his own question.
“Then why are you asking me?” What the hell is happening here? Is this all a weird dream or did I drink too much champagne at the party and now I’m hallucinating?
“He touches you, and I don’t like it.”
I close my eyes and take a calming breath. I’m sure on the outside I seem to be controlling my anger, but on the inside I’m relishing his jealousy. Then another thought occurs to me. When could he have seen Oliver ever touch me?
“That's really none of your business anymore. Besides, I'm not really his type,” I respond as I open my eyes.
“I don’t care who you are or what fucking planet you’re from, you’re everyone’s type.” I swear his eyes flash brighter for a moment, but it’s gone as quickly as I thought I saw it.