Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 113923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
“That is an excellent solution,” Dad tells Preston.
Mom nods in complete agreement.
Why am I even here if my participation in the conversation, in my life, is entirely superfluous? I’m little more than an ornament, a piece of furniture they move from room to room. These are my parents. My boyfriend. The people who, ostensibly, care the most about me in the world.
Yet I feel completely invisible. And not for the first time.
As they chatter through the main course, oblivious to my existential crisis, I suddenly see the next five, ten, twenty years of my life closing in on me.
Less a future than a threat.
More a sentence than an opportunity.
But then it occurs to me. I’m not a child anymore. I don’t have to be here. In fact, there’s absolutely nothing holding me in this seat. My mind wanders back to that lunch with Preston’s friends, how the girls were so accepting of Seb’s apparent forays into extracurricular fellatio. And then later, the way Preston so easily forgave me for my own indiscretion. The clues align themselves and the picture becomes clear.
So fucking clear.
Pushing my plate away, I toss my napkin on the table and scrape my chair back.
My mother looks up, frowning slightly.
“I’m sorry,” I announce to the table. “I have to go.”
Without a second of hesitation, I bolt for the door before anyone has a chance to protest. Outside the restaurant, I try to camouflage in the shrubbery near the valet stand as I hurriedly call for a cab, but my hiding spot sucks and Preston spots me the moment he stalks outside.
“What the hell was that?” he demands.
I draw a slow breath. “I don’t want to argue with you. Go back inside, Pres. I’m done here.”
“Keep your voice down.” Shushing me, he grabs my elbow and drags me around the corner, out of earshot, like I’m a child getting scolded. “What the hell has gotten into you?”
I yank my arm from his grasp. “I can’t do this anymore. You, them—all of it. I’m so over it I’m bursting with apathy. That, in there, was me spending my very last fuck.”
“Have you completely lost your mind?” Preston stares at me, incensed. “That’s what this is—this tantrum, the hotel nonsense. It’s stress. The stress of freshman year is getting to you. You’re cracking under the pressure.” He starts nodding. “I understand. We can get you help, send you to a spa or something. I’m sure we can make arrangements with the dean to finish your semester—”
“A spa?” I can’t help it. I erupt, laughing in his face. In this moment, I don’t think he’s ever known me less.
He narrows his eyes at my mocking laughter.
“This isn’t stress. It’s clarity.” My humor fading, I meet his gaze. “You’re cheating on me, Preston.”
He frowns. “And who told you that?”
That’s his response? If I’d doubted it before, I’m not doubting it now. He can’t even be bothered to muster up a denial?
“Are you saying it’s not true?” I challenge. “That you aren’t just like your buddy Sebastian, sleeping around with girls that aren’t ‘wife material’ while pledging his undying love to Chrissy? Chrissy, who doesn’t even care that he’s sleeping around.” I shake my head incredulously. “Look me in the eye and tell me you’re not like that.”
“I’m not like that.”
But he doesn’t look me in the eye.
I bark out a harsh laugh. “That’s why you weren’t at all disturbed by Seb’s actions, right, Preston? Because you’re exactly like him. And you know what’s funny? I’m not even mad. I should be,” I tell him, because there’s plenty of anger from all the ways he’s disrespected me tonight. “I should be pissed. But I realized tonight that I don’t care anymore.”
“You can’t break up with me,” he says sternly, as if he’s telling me I can’t have candy because it’ll rot my teeth.
“I am. I did.”
“Forget whatever it is you think I’ve done. That’s just extracurricular bullshit—”
There’s that word again.
“It has nothing to do with our relationship. I love you, Mackenzie. And you love me too.”
For years, I’ve confused what we had for love. I do love Preston. Or at least I did, at some point. It started that way. I’m sure of it. But we were never in love. I mistook boredom for comfort and comfort for romance. Because I didn’t know what true passion was. I didn’t know what I was missing, how it’s supposed to feel when you can’t contain yourself, when desire for another person consumes you so completely, when your appreciation and affection for them is total and unconditional.
“Stop it, Mackenzie.” Oops. Now he’s pissed. I might be sent to my room with no dessert. “You’re throwing a temper tantrum and it isn’t cute. Come back inside. Apologize to your parents. We’ll forget this whole thing ever happened.”
“You don’t get it. I’ve made up my mind. I’m done.”