Page 13 of Endless Anger (Monsters Within #1)

LUCY

EIGHTEEN YEARS OLD

The wide white envelope is heavy in my hand as I sprint up the paved drive of the Asphodel. On the southern side of Aplana Island, the Andersons’ stone mansion looms over its secluded beach like a haunted gray landmark, the corners hidden by shadows this time of night.

Crunching noises fill the air as I step off the pavement, darting around the house like I’ve done a million other times before. Until my senior year, this was the routine.

I feel a little dizzy as I stop beneath a darkened window on the second floor in the back. Adrenaline still courses through me, buzzing, from my rush to get over here and reveal the good news.

At least I think it’s good news. Dad says colleges don’t send big envelopes if they’re rejecting you.

Since this is my dream, I’m choosing to believe he isn’t lying.

Wrenching my cell from my pocket, I send a quick text, even though I know the recipient despises that form of communication. He always wants face-to-face interactions or nothing else, which is why I spent so much of my childhood totally wrapped up in his orbit.

There was never any other way to maintain his friendship .

Me: I’m outside. Come down or open up. Have something to show you!

I pretend there aren’t a dozen unanswered messages already from the last week.

It’s a little chilly tonight, so when I don’t get an immediate reply, I stuff my phone back into my coat and bury my fingers beneath my armpits.

Despite the cold, I’m positively giddy. If I concentrated hard enough, I could probably use my excitement to scale the side of the mansion and just propel myself into his room, but the rope ladder Asher keeps tucked under his bed is safer.

I wait, hopping from one leg to the other. We saw each other earlier, but the mail hadn’t run yet. I’d been perched at my bedroom window all afternoon waiting and ran out the second our postman showed up, snatching the envelope before anyone else could see that it’d come.

Asher must’ve gotten his too. Since he graduated last year, he’s been doing random odd jobs with his parents, helping his mom with book tours or his dad with…

Well, I don’t really know what they do, since his dad’s a retired physician, but I imagine it’s busywork. Whatever keeps Asher out of trouble.

But we decided to tackle Avernia next fall. Together.

There’s no one else I’d rather have by my side for this next chapter.

Even though we’ve been seeing much less of each other since Foxe’s party, my sentiment remains. Supper earlier this evening was a bit awkward, but considering the thousands of arguments we’ve had and moved past, I know this is just a little blip on the radar.

Still, something quietly aches in the center of my chest. Heartbreak in physical form as I involuntarily recall the party.

Asher’s face, bright red and stunned, as he pulls his lips from mine.

The back of his head as he scrambled away, like he couldn’t run from my kiss fast enough.

My brain flips through the memories like snapshots .

Nothing has ever stung more.

Above me, his window remains dark, and I start to grow irritated. Stepping back, I scan the ground and find a pebble among the rows of rosebushes, then cock my arm with it in hand, aiming for the glass pane.

“You break it, my mom will probably make you buy it.”

Startled by the sudden voice coasting in over my shoulder, I jump, dropping the pebble as I whirl around.

Asher’s six-foot-four frame is cloaked in darkness, his pale face partially lit up by the overhead moon.

Jet-black tendrils of hair fall in damp strands over his forehead, and the blue stud in his left nostril seems to sparkle as he looks down at me.

His brown eyes are indiscernible, completely masked by the shadows.

Yet I feel his stare in my stomach.

Clearing my throat, I give him a dirty look. “Let’s be honest here, pretty boy. Your mom would make you pay, because you took too long to come out.”

I can’t tell if his expression changes at all. “I was busy.”

“You always say that, but you never really are.”

“Except when I’m doing something for you.”

For some reason, that makes my cheeks heat. I shiver, shaking it off. “Well, I don’t think I asked you to do anything for me tonight, so consider yourself pardoned.”

A few unbearably awkward beats of silence follow. He just looks at me, and I feel my heart beating in my chest—can feel it in my throat as every muscle in my body begins to itch beneath his scrutiny.

Or maybe it’s the standing still. I’ve never been very good at that. Something within me, like a spiritual need, is always rearing to go. It’s like my body is made up of a million little worker bees who will die if they stop moving.

Finally, Asher exhales, his breath collecting in a plume between us. It smells vaguely of mint toothpaste and nutty alcohol.

That gives me pause. Asher doesn’t drink or even smoke. Never has.

I don’t ask him about it though. It’s probably my imagination anyway .

“What did you want?” he probes eventually.

I try not to let the muted irritation dull my excitement and shove the envelope forward, bouncing on my heels. “I got this in the mail today.”

“What is it?”

My eyebrows arch. “Is the big gold A on the front not enough of an indication?”

When he doesn’t respond, I groan, tossing the thing at him. He catches it against his broad chest, holding it in place.

His fingers are stained with smudged ink, and I imagine him sitting upstairs all evening, working on his sketches. Endless stacks of drawing pads fill his bedroom, and I let myself dream a little bit of how his dorm will look with them.

I wonder if he’ll tape any pieces to the walls or gift them to me like he used to.

Silly aspirations but, standing here right now, they feel attainable.

“It’s my Avernia College acceptance letter. Well, maybe. I haven’t opened it yet. I wanted to, uh, do it with you.”

That makes my face burn even more, and I reach up, pushing my hair behind my ears just to have something to do. I don’t know if he’s tracking my movements, but it feels like he is, and it makes me fidget more.

I tuck another piece of hair back, then scrub my palm over my jaw.

“You got in?” he replies.

“I…I don’t know. We’ll have to open it and see.”

More silence. Fuck, I’m starting to get nauseous. Why is he being so weird?

“Why are you being so weird?” I cringe when I realize the question has been verbalized.

“What am I doing?”

“You’re just…” I trail off, waving my hand in his direction. “I don’t know. Something is up, so tell me what it is so we can move on.”

“There’s nothing?—”

My hands fly to my face, abruptly cutting him off. “Did you not get in? ”

“What?”

“To Avernia. Did you get a rejection letter?” Panic bubbles in my throat, but I force an exhale, ignoring it. “Okay, well, that’s not the end of the world. I’m sure your parents can pull some strings, especially since your sister is an alumna, and?—”

“Lucy.”

“—maybe she can even write a letter of recommendation, like she did for me? Or Uncle Grayson probably has some weight to throw around up there, since he teaches at?—”

“ Lucy .”

It takes a moment to register that he’s calling me by my actual name and not any derivative he’s concocted over the years. Not pup or Luce or Lulu. Not even L or Lucille, my least favorite.

Just Lucy.

My heart seizes a bit in my chest.

More so when he speaks again.

“I didn’t apply.”

Several seconds pass before my brain comprehends his words. I blink, glancing down at the envelope he’s still holding, then back up. Annoyance pulses in my veins over not being able to see his face that well.

“What do you mean, you didn’t apply?” I ask. “We did it together at my house. I watched you hit Submit and pay the application fee.”

He sighs. I feel it in my chest.

“I didn’t apply,” he says again, like I didn’t hear him the first time. “I clicked out of the page before it could finish processing. I just…I couldn’t. No part of me wants to go there.”

My mouth falls open. “Since when? This has been our plan for the last two years.”

“Your plan,” he corrects, and I hate that it feels like a slap to the face. “I don’t want to go.”

Blood rushes between my ears, making my skin hot to the touch despite the cold. My throat swells painfully as tears brim my eyes, and I take a step back, crossing my arms over my chest .

“But you said…” Inhaling shakily, I wait for the tears to subside and glare at his shoes. “If this is about what happened last week?—”

“It isn’t.”

I swallow, nodding. “Sure, sure. But you know, I’ve barely seen you other than today with everyone else, and when I do see you, it’s like we don’t even know how to talk to each other anymore. And now you’re saying you don’t want to go to school with me, so I’m just a little concerned, you know?”

Fire burns my esophagus, the burden of honesty scorching my vocal cords. I’ve never in my life been afraid of telling him how I feel though, so I don’t know any other way to be.

“Luce.” Now when he uses my nickname, it feels like a precursor to disappointment.

I take another step back, my hands trembling. “What are you doing instead?”

He hesitates. “Does it matter?”

“Yes,” I say softly. “It matters to me.”

How can you even ask that?

Asher doesn’t respond.

Every atom of my being deflates with the prolonged silence.

Shaking off the sadness crushing my rib cage, I turn away, back toward the gated entrance of the Asphodel. There’s a humming sound between my ears, blocking out my ability to process any thoughts except he’s not coming .

You’re on your own, Lucy.

Despair scratches at my bones, and I want to stop and demand he go with me anyway. I want to tell him I need him there—I’ve always needed him, the way a plant needs water or the moon needs gravity to keep from flying off into space.

But it sounds stupid, even spoken silently in my head.

Asher doesn’t need anyone, so why would I expect him to understand?

What am I supposed to do without you around?

There’s never been a moment when that was something I had to wonder. He’s been here since before I was born, always hovering somewhere in my peripheral if not directly at my side.

“Luce.”

My heart squeezes. I twist my body, facing him again. “You’re supposed to be my best friend.”

He holds out the envelope.

I shake my head. “Keep it.”

“Don’t want it.”

“Well, neither do I.”

“Stop being ridiculous. You were so excited a few seconds ago. Don’t let my choice ruin this for you.”

Anger boils inside my stomach, spewing out and upward.

“You won’t even tell me why you don’t want to go,” I snap.

“For years, it’s just been these vague little ‘oh, Avernia is a terrible school,’ with nothing to back up your claims, so what the hell am I supposed to think?

Either you’re letting me go off to a place that’s no fucking good, or you’re not going just because you don’t want to go there with me . ”

His nostrils flare. “I can’t explain?—”

“Then you’re right, Asher.” I’m seething now, seeing red instead of the darker hues where he stands.

“I shouldn’t let you ruin things. I’m happy I got in, and I don’t give a shit whether you go or not.

In fact, maybe we should skip the formalities completely and just stop caring about what the other person does for good.

Does that sound like a plan to you? Since you’ve decided to abandon the other one we had mapped out, I figured maybe I should ask. ”

More silence. My head grows dizzy, defiance running through me like a live wire.

If I was a different person, maybe I’d hit him.

Hurt him somehow, the way he has me. I doubt it’d do much—he’s probably got some huge tolerance built up from a lifetime of picking fights with his peers—but it would make me feel better to see him bleed from the nose once because I was angry and not because he wanted to.

I consider it for a moment. My fist aches to drive into him.

Or maybe that’s my heart. I don’t know .

If I cared less, maybe I could.

“Is that really what you want?” he asks after what feels like a lifetime. “You want this to be it for us?”

“You make it sound like we’re breaking up.”

But that would require him to have feelings for me, and this has made it obvious he doesn’t.

He moves forward, his shoes crushing the leaves on the ground. The sound is loud, drowning out the ocean past his house. He drowns out everything.

I can still feel the intensity of his mouth on mine, covering the world as I knew it a week ago.

He’s as terrifying as he is intriguing, and I hate that.

I hate that I’m going to miss him.

“Answer the question, Luce. You’re that mad at me, you’re fine if I walk away and don’t contact you again? Ever?”

“Yes.” A single syllable, spoken with courage I don’t particularly feel. “I don’t think I can be friends with someone who lies to me.”

“Because the only liar in this relationship can be you. Right?” Disgust drips from his words, and he comes close, shoving the envelope into my stomach.

I don’t grab it, so it falls between us, landing in a shallow puddle.

“When have I ever lied to you?”

“Actions can be lies too.”

Lifting my chin, I pretend his insistence that my feelings are untrue doesn’t bother me. “So this is about last week.”

Asher scoffs, shaking his head. He keeps his face turned toward me for several seconds, but I can’t tell if he’s looking at or past me. It’s unnerving either way, but I curl my toes inside my boots and keep my spine straight.

“It is now,” he answers finally, sidestepping me before taking off.

I’m frozen in place, unable to move as he abandons me. Forced to listen to his retreat grow more and more distant, until his footsteps are inaudible and the ocean beyond the trees takes their place .

I half expect him to turn around and come back. To glue himself to my side until our anger has diluted and we can speak again.

He never does.

My shoulders slump when I realize I’m really alone out here, no longer able to celebrate with the one person I wanted to.

Some fucking birthday.