complete disarray. Strands stick up in all directions as if he stuck his finger in an electrical socket. Today, his hazel eyes look as green as blades of grass, his jawline just as sharp. His shirt is untucked on one side, and there’s a large brown stain on the thigh of his jeans.
“You can get a drink if you want,” I say when he approaches the table, nodding towards the barista. He ignores my suggestion, choosing instead to sit opposite of me at the table. And then, he just stares. I try not to squirm, but there’s something so incredibly intense about Karsyn Alder that I can’t help it.
“We need to talk,” he settles on at last.
“So talk.” I busy my hands by taking another drink of my coffee. My hands tremble so bad that the liquid sloshes over the edge. Cursing, I grab a napkin out of the dispenser and dab at the spill.
Karsyn continues to stare without speaking, his hazel eyes demanding something of me that I can’t put into words. When the silence grows unnerving, I stand. I’m not just going to sit here like some circus, side-show freak for him to gawk at.
“Wait.” It’s one word, but it freezes me in place.
“You called me here to talk, Karsyn. So talk,” I say, and he nods, lips straightened in a grim line. When he gestures for me to reclaim my seat, I do so somewhat reluctantly.
Immediately, he begins to pull at his blond hair again, his agitation making his movements jerky.
“I don’t even know where to begin,” he confesses, voice raspy as if he hasn’t used it in a while. He nibbles on his lower lip, seemingly deep in thought. “I’m stupid.”
His candid statement leaves me reeling.
“What?”
“I mean, I’m not stupid, stupid. But I’m never going to be some fucking straight A student like Lucas,” he continues, staring at his hands as if they hold all of the secrets in the universe. There’s a tiny golden freckle on the back of his left hand, and a teeny, tiny part of me wants to reach across the table and trace it with my finger. I quell that ridiculous urge by balling my hands into tight fists.
“Where are you going with this, Alder?” I cock a brow at him as he swallows.
“I…I don’t know.” He scrubs at his jawline in irritation. “No, that’s not true. I do know. I’m never going to be some damn rocket scientist or anything like that. I’m good at only a few things, apparently. Football and being a complete jackass.”
“I still don’t know where you’re going with this,” I say lightly, running the pad of my thumb across the top of my coffee cup. Karsyn doesn’t answer, his head lowered as he glares daggers into the white tabletop. I take advantage of the moment of silence to look around the room for the first time since I entered.
Not a lot has changed. It still has a makeshift assortment of archaic furniture, distressed wooden tables painted white, and long, floral couches against each wall. A tiny bookshelf sits in the far corner with a healthy collection of dust on each novel. The only item even moderately new is the register—a touch-screen computer. Even the cappuccino machine is the same as it was five years ago.
“Do you remember,” I begin, purposely keeping my voice light and airy, “seventh grade?”
“I remember a fuck ton of things from seventh grade,” Karsyn retorts. “You have to be more specific.”
“You locked me in that cupboard right over there.” I point with my chin towards a closet-sized room behind the counter. I remember the fear I felt being trapped in the dark with no escape. The worry that the cops would come and arrest me for trespassing…despite the fact that I hadn’t gone willingly. But these boys, these Devils, had money and power while I had none. Each of them lived in sprawling mansions, or so I believed, while I lived in a modest, two-bedroom apartment with my mother. I was just the town freak.
“Shut up.” I whip around to face him, gaping at Karsyn’s quiet, yet vehement, reply.
“Excuse me?”
“I said shut up.” He finally lifts his head, and I’m shocked to see tears in his eyes. “Just…just stop.”
“Stop what?”
I feel as if we’re at a turning point, as if we’re at a crossroads and each direction beckons us forward. We can choose to remain together, no matter which road we take, or we can separate. Time stands still as my