Page 23 of Second Position (Astor Hill #2)

Gen

It’s nearly eleven o’clock at night when my phone’s vibrations startle me from sleep.

The blue hue of its glow seems to highlight every dark corner of my room.

It’s been years since the night Lily died but few things pull me back into that panicked state like receiving a call in the middle of the night.

I can still hear the shuddering breath Ben took at the end of the line when I asked if everything was okay.

My entire body was charged with that almost static like electricity, the one that fills the air the moment right before things are about to change, the one seeming to suffocate me now.

I squint at the name on the screen hoping it’s Jean, calling to tell me he and Ian broke up again or Sloane, wanting to rant about a rogue hookup. Instead, I have two missed calls and a text notification.

Will.

I quickly type in my passcode.

Will

Are you up ?

My jaw tenses. A large part of me wants to ignore him, roll back over and fall asleep.

But what if something is seriously wrong?

My memory is plagued by visions of Will in the aftermath of Lily’s death; every time I spoke to him it felt like someone was challenging me to walk through a football field of eggshells, each one I broke symbolizing another irrevocable crack in who he used to be.

Sometimes I wonder if all that’s left of him are those cracks, little pieces of himself working to hold each other up and if one comes down, they all will.

Even though my mind knows it’s irrational to be this worried I can’t seem to untangle myself from the visceral reaction I have to him needing me.

Are you okay?

Will

Can you come over?

I know it’s late but

I really need to see you

Adrenaline unwittingly rushes against the backs of my eyes and my joints begin to throb with worry.

Yeah of course. I’ll be there soon.

I throw on the first sweatshirt hung in my closet, which just so happens to be one of Will’s.

It’s old; the cuffs are slightly weathered, the vinyl indicating Will’s high school number faded.

It’s heather gray, and when I slip it on my nostrils fill with a scent more familiar than my own, the smell of the first boy I ever loved.

Nostalgia and guilt pelt me from both sides as I try to comprehend how I can both want to run to and away from him.

The anxiety welling in the base of my stomach does a good job of reminding me I don’t actually have much of a choice.

I don’t bother to change out of my sleep shorts, immediately turning the heat up once I’m in my car.

The drive to Will’s apartment is less than a mile and I’m parked before I have time to mentally prepare for whatever state Will might be in.

I rush into the lobby and am in and out of the elevator in no time, fervently rapping my closed fist against his door while I huddle into myself.

“Why didn’t you change?” Will asks, opening his door and quickly pulling me inside.

“I was just trying to get here as soon as possible.” I suck in a breath. You wouldn’t know there was anything wrong by the look of him, and I’m kicking myself for rushing over here.

He leans back against his counter, a sheepish grin on his boyishly handsome face. Golden strands fall into his eyes as he looks me over and it’s hard to separate this version of Will from the one I grew up with. Especially when it’s just us and he’s looking at me the way he is now.

“I did always like you in my clothes.” He’s coy and self assured, so blatantly flirting with me in the safety of his home, and I immediately feel annoyed that I let myself think something was wrong. That I ran to him like I always do.

“Why am I here, Will?” I grit out between my teeth, my arms crossed tight against my chest. “What could possibly be so wrong that you needed me right now?”

His throat bobs as he glances away. “Want something to drink?”

He rounds the corner, leaning down to grab one from the fridge .

“Nope, I’m good.” I’m still standing by the door, waiting for an answer.

“You coming in?” he asks, ignoring my previous question, his back to me as he walks down the corridor that leads to his room.

I trudge my way down the same barren hallway, following him across the concrete floor, plopping myself down on my preferred spot of his bed before he can engulf the entire surface with his athlete sized body.

Taking note of my small declaration, he suppresses a smirk and sets himself up in the far corner of his bed against the wall, nursing a beer in one hand as he runs the other through that perfectly tousled hair.

“So. What is it?” I ask more gently than before, though my brows still rise with impatience.

“Liv is breaking up with me.” His voice would sound steady to the untrained ear, but I know Will and that lack of emotion, that hollow pang as he says the words to me? They have me inching slightly closer to him.

“She is breaking up with you or she did break up with you?” My voice wavers, and I know he can hear the panic in it, can see that even I know there’s not much he can do to stop his world from crashing down.

“She wants to go on a break.” His matter of factness is unsettling.

“What happened?” I feel my heart pitter patter in my chest, the reality of this sinking in with each moment.

“We were at the team dinner and Ben casually mentioned that he and Liv went to the city together the other day.” His laugh is bitter, laced with disappointment. “Of course, Liv never mentioned it. Made it seem like it wasn’t a big deal, but it’s a big deal. Right?” He looks up at me, waiting.

The same heart that broke for him after every bad night with Dan, that broke for him after Lily, breaks again. Will’s not a perfect person, far from it, but for Ben to do this after everything else? No one deserves that, not even Will.

“Yeah, that’s a big deal.” I shake my head. “Did you confront her?”

He heaves a heavy sigh, knocking his head back against the corner of the wall.

“We got into an argument, which started with how fucked up that was and how I wanted her to be honest with me, but ended with her saying she wanted a break. And I told her that’s not what we need, but…”

“You don’t think a break is even a little bit good?”

“What the fuck is a break going to do?”

“Give you both some time to think? I mean, Will…something’s obviously going on with her and Ben,” I quietly add, almost regretting even acknowledging it.

“Don’t say that,” he says with shut eyes, his head still back.

“Why is she so important to you?” My voice is hushed, like the words themselves might be enough to cause an earthquake if they were uttered any louder.

It doesn’t take a genius to know that Will and Olivia are no great love story.

Are they a beautiful couple? Yes, absolutely.

But they couldn’t be more different. Where Will is brash and careless, passionate and spontaneous, Olivia is controlled and perceptive and muted.

And the old “opposites attract” doesn’t work here because they so clearly repel.

They argue incessantly , forever in denial that maybe, just maybe , he shouldn’t have to reel himself in for her and she shouldn’t have to live her life clenching her jaw for him.

If she was any other girl, I probably would have convinced Will of this already.

And not for my sake, but for his. But she isn’t any other girl; she’s Liv.

And she walked into his life at the worst possible time and I don’t know how to get him to even want to walk away from this demented hole he’s found himself in.

But maybe I won’t have to. Maybe they’ll implode all on their own.

He levels his head, his eyes now open and shinier than they were before. He’s not crying, but he’s on the verge. “I don’t know how to get past her.”

The air seems to sink around us as we both silently acknowledge that Olivia isn’t the her he’s talking about.

I squeeze his hand, moving so our thighs are now touching and lay my head on his shoulder, a position that almost comes second nature, one we’ve found ourselves in since we were kids.

He pulls in a shaky breath, resting his chin in my hair.

When Lily died, Will and I holed up in this room for an entire week.

Seven days and eight nights, I laid in this bed with him.

Saw the way his eyes would glass over every time he remembered she was gone.

Watched him call Ben over and over, only for his own brother to have left him when he needed him most. I was here then just like I’m here now.

“Please stay, Genny.” His voice is the faintest whisper. Fragile and rough, a piece of fine china broken, but not yet shattered.

We sit in silence for a long time, listening to each other breathe and I realize that, for so long, lying here with him felt like the only home I had.

All those nights growing up where we’d fall asleep in each other's arms, forcing one to be the other's security blanket. Now though, it’s like I'm looking through a filter, living in a memory that doesn’t resemble our real lives, and it's hard not to feel out of place as I think about how much Grant would hate this.

Grant .

The world outside of this cozy, dark, barely lamp lit corner of his room suddenly illuminates in my mind, and Grant stands in the center of it. And all I can think about is when I’m going to see him again. When I’m going to feel him again. When he’s going to kiss me again.

“Can we go together tomorrow?” Will's voice interrupts my thoughts, leaving me disoriented as I try to piece together what he’s talking about.

“Go…?”

Will picks his head up to look down at me, his face amused.

“You serious?” He gives me one of those rare Will smiles, the one that’s truly his, not a mask shielding him from his grief. A smile I took for granted for so many years. “The gala is tomorrow, Gen.”

Shit .

“Right...” I curse under my breath, but he doesn’t catch it. The only person I want to see at that gala is Grant. Sloane even helped me pick out my dress. The idea of having him see me show up with Will is not something I even want to imagine.

“So do you wanna go together?” His eyes shine with hope and I instantly am sick to my stomach.

“I feel like that’s maybe a bad idea. I mean, what about Olivia?” I wince.

“Since when have you ever been concerned about Olivia?”

“Will…you called me because you were upset that your girlfriend of two years wants to go on a break. What is she going to think if we show up at the gala together tomorrow?”

His sly smirk shocks me back into the present and he shrugs. “Let her think what she wants. ”

I press my lips against each other, nodding as I climb out of his embrace and off the bed. “Or you could not treat me like a pawn in whatever toxic shit you two have going on.” I turn to reach for the door.

“Genny, come on…” he croons, standing behind me before I know it.

“It was a joke. I’m mad at her and I just…

said that as a joke. You’re not a pawn. You’re my best friend and I love you.

I really do want to go together tomorrow.

Just as friends.” His sincerity is a balm to the embarrassment I just felt, but it does nothing to muddy the clarity I gained from it.

“I love you, too. But we’re not kids anymore. It’s not just you and me—there’s other people.”

“Right. Other people .” The implication hangs between us and I can’t tell if it’s my guilty conscience or the way Will’s eyeing me like he knows everything going on between me and Grant, like he’s waiting for me to mention it, that has my panic taking over.

For a reason I can’t completely place, it seems easier to just agree to his offer instead of just telling him the truth.

I tell myself I’m sparing his feelings, that he’s in a fragile state, but part of me wonders if I’m protecting myself from the blowback of Will’s implosion.

“You swear I’m not just a way for you to get back at your girlfriend?”

“Ex-girlfriend,” he corrects and I roll my eyes. “But yes Gen, I swear to god. This entire thing is going to be miserable anyway. Maybe it won’t be so bad if we go together?”

“Fine,” I say, and it’s hard to decipher if I’m more pissed at him or myself, likely the latter. “But we’re only staying for the first hour.”

His eyes roll but his lips curve into a smile as he wraps his arms around me, and I lay my cheek against his chest, breathing him in.

He smells like every happy moment of my childhood, and I wish I could stay here forever, breathing the time back into me.

I know I can’t, though. Know that the world we inhabited then is so different from the one we inhabit now. That we are different now.

“I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“Hmm,” I hum against his chest, tilting my head up to look at him one last time. “Goodnight, Will.”

“Night, Genny. Text me when you’re home.”