Page 13 of Please Don’t Go (The Midnight Strike #1)

DANIEL

Maybe she wants to purposely stay in the shadows because she thinks that’s where she belongs, but that would never work for her because I see her.

I can’t point out one singular thing that stands out because there isn’t just one—it’s her whole. She is light, a blinding color that’s hard to ignore. Like a lighthouse guiding you home.

She’s complex in her own way, but that doesn’t make her any less deserving. She doesn’t smile, but that doesn’t mean she never has. Her eyes don’t spark with life, but I’m sure they once did.

Maybe she thinks she’s broken and not worth fixing, or maybe I’m just projecting because that’s how I feel.

Broken…lost…empty.

I hide behind smiles and being the life of a party, but I’m nothing but a big fucking fraud.

I wish I would’ve died that night. Or all the other times.

No you don’t, a voice in my head counters.

“You’re quiet.” Her soft voice pulls me out of my head, shocking me.

I let the smile easily slip on my face. “Miss my voice already?”

The light behind me helps cast a glow around her face and body, allowing me to see the tiny furrow of her brows. “No, you’re just…unnaturally quiet. That normally doesn’t happen.”

“Aren’t you observant,” I tease or at least I attempt to, but I think I do a shit job because her brows soften like she’s figured something out, but then her face becomes impassive.

Clearing my throat, I draw the focus to something else.

Something that’s actually important. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“What did you mean by, before the cliff I didn’t know who you were but you knew me?”

Ever since she told me, it’s been eating at me.

“It’s really not a big deal. Just forget about it. It happened a while ago anyway.” She tucks a tendril of her wavy hair behind her ear.

“It is to me because I’ve been trying to figure out what I did to piss you off more than I already do.” This time, I genuinely smile and when I see the faintest jerk of her lips, I can’t help but feel like I won something. “Come on, Jos, tell me.”

“You drove me home one night.”

I try to recall that moment, but I’m drawing a blank and she must realize that because she sighs.

“It was about a year and two months ago.” She leans against the fence, her gaze focused on the people jumping in the pool.

“I’d been drinking that night and Bryson was drunk, so you offered to take me home.

You said something about being the DD that night.

You spent the entire ride talking about cassette tapes, vinyls, and your favorite artists. ”

I’m instantly teleported to that night and how I assigned myself the DD. It was Gray’s job since he was a freshman. We usually have freshmen or transfers as DDs. But even though I was a sophomore and it wasn’t my responsibility, I needed to get out of the house.

“It’s really stupid to have gotten mad. The interaction was small. I didn’t even speak to you.”

“It’s not stupid.” I also lean against the fence, still making sure I maintain my distance.

“And if it makes you feel better, I wasn’t supposed to be the DD.

I just needed to get out of the house. My girl— ex -girlfriend,” I quickly correct myself.

I don’t know why I emphasize ex, but I do.

“She had once again accused me of cheating and we got into an argument. It got bad and I knew if I didn’t leave, she’d continue arguing with me. ”

And now thinking about it, I wonder if she knows my ex slept with her ex? I want to ask but I don’t, afraid I’ll ruin the mood.

“Well, did you?” Her question isn’t accusatory but curious.

I can’t help my chuckle because something tells me she doesn’t know. God, how fucked up is this?

“No. I’ll have you know, I’m very and I mean very loyal despite what anyone says.

I don’t remember that night or you because I couldn’t stop thinking about the argument and how it spiraled out of control.

I couldn’t stop thinking about how I felt guilty and relieved that I didn’t have to deal with her anymore.

I couldn’t stop thinking about how shitty of a boyfriend I was because I chose to drive a girl I didn’t know, over a girl who’d been my girlfriend for a year.

I know you probably think I’m stupid for?—”

“I don’t,” she talks over me. “I don’t think anything at all. Actually, I’m not in the place to make assumptions. My last and only relationship had been a total shitshow all because I had bad judgment, so who am I to judge you for what you did?”

“Last and only?” I cringe, wishing I could take that back because I hadn’t intended to say that out loud. I shouldn’t have drunk tonight.

She sardonically laughs, slouches down to the ground, and glances up at me. “You really don’t need to be here. I’m good alone.”

“You know.” I drop down, sitting next to her. “You really have to stop trying to push me away. The harder the push, the more you make me want to stay.”

“In that case, please stay. I could really use the company,” she sarcastically says, but I don’t miss the smidge of sadness that tones her words.

“See, I thought you’d never ask.” I happily say.

Her mouth drops and for a second, I get lost in the shape of her lips and how full they are.

I clench my jaw, shifting my gaze away, but then I get lost on how her face shines from the array of colored lights hanging all over the backyard.

There’s this effervescent gleam about her.

Like a moth to a flame, I can’t stop looking at her.

“Did you just use reverse psychology on me, Garcia?”

I inhale a deep, quiet breath, my lungs filling with the faintest hint of lavender and vanilla. I’m tempted to do it again, but I snap out of it, realizing I still haven’t answered.

“Some people call it that, others would call it getting played.”

“What can I do so you’ll leave me alone?” She stretches her legs out, crossing one ankle over the other.

I mirror her position. “I really like all those shades of green.”

“Don’t change the subject,” she chastises. “Answer the question.”

With Josefine, I feel like I’m standing on a fine line. She’s on one side while I’m on the other. It’d be easy to step back, stay safe, and keep my distance.

But I really don’t want to do that.

“Did you wear it for me?” That’s bold and too forward of a question, but I can’t help myself.

She scoffs and side-eyes me, brows drawn in and eyes filled with unfiltered judgment. “Self-centered much?”

I attentively observe the bright green that glimmers on her eyelids and the rhinestones that are scattered around her eyes. “You didn’t answer the question.”

“I didn’t know you were going to be here.” She pries her gaze away and stares straight ahead. “Weird to assume I’d wear anything for you when I don’t know you.”

“You know I’m a shortstop. You know how tall I am. You know my friends call my Danny, which you have yet to do. Annnnd you know my favorite color is green. I would say you know me.” I knock my knee against hers, watching her keenly.

She twists the ring on her middle finger, dropping her gaze to where my knee touched hers, then stares up at me. The mask she wears is impenetrable, so it’s hard to decipher what could be going on in her head.

I wonder what I need to do to see behind the mask. I’ve no doubt this is the real Josefine, but I know there’s more, and I want to find out all the things that make her who she is.

“I don’t know the specific shade,” she softly says.

“I don’t have a specific shade,” I answer just as softly as if we were sharing a secret.

I truly don’t but that changes today because my favorite shade is whatever Josie wears. And today happens to be a combination of all the green hues on her bikini top.

Lime green. Yellow green. Dark green.

“We shouldn’t be friends,” she wistfully says.

“Why not?” I inch a little closer, but still leave enough distance so I don’t hover.

The light she was just exuding, dims. Even though I’m not touching her, I feel her tense and shift uncomfortably.

I stiffen, my heart twisting painfully at the thought she still might want to end it all.

“You don’t want to waste your time hearing this.”

“Nothing about this is a waste of time. Talk to me. Are you having those thoughts again?” I fiddle with the tiny safety pin on my chain.

“Am I suicidal? Is that what you want to know?” Her words sound so hollow, but ingesting them feels deep; they’re hard to absorb.

“Yes.” I hold my breath.

“No, I’m not suicidal. I’m just…”

“Just what? Talk to me, Jos,” I plead.

“Empty.” She tips her head up, and I watch as the column of her throat bobs.

“I’m not saying that because I want you to feel bad for me and I certainly don’t need you to stick around to make me feel better.

I just don’t know how to not feel, but it is what it is.

You should probably leave now. Trust me, you’ll end up hating yourself if you don’t. ”

Given the circumstances, I don’t know how to tell her that ever since I saw her again, it feels like a switch has been flipped up. I don’t know how to express that or how to begin to explain to her what that even means because I don’t understand it.

“Give me until the end of the semester.”

She looks up at me, cocking her head to the side, staring at me, confused. “What?”

“Give me until the end of the semester to help you fill that emptiness. If it doesn’t work, I’ll leave you alone if you want to be alone that badly, but until then, let me help you.”

She laughs humorlessly. “You don’t know how to give up, do you?”

“What can I say? My middle name is Jesus .” I chuckle, hoping it masks the hollowness behind it. “Let me try.”

“You’ll regret it,” she announces, already defeated.

Did she somehow get closer, or did I? I only scooted an inch, or was it more?

Why am I even focusing on that?

“That’s not going to happen. I promise.” And I mean that.

“We’ll see…”

I don’t know who gave up on her, but I know I won’t.