Page 40 of Second Position (Astor Hill #2)

“He likes her,” she says quietly, but just loud enough that we all can hear her and Dean snickers softly at my side. I see Will tense, his jaw flickering slightly, but it quickly fades as he peers down at the blonde beside him.

“Do you wanna dance?” Dean says at my side. He’s just about my height, a nice build and even nicer hair. But the problem is, he isn’t Will.

Lily nods her head, enthusiastically mouthing yes .

I feel the irritation beginning to boil inside of me and I can’t help but wonder if it would still be here if Will wasn’t.

If I would be up for dancing with a random boy at a random party, my new friend cheering me on, if he wasn’t here.

Would I want Dean if there wasn’t this invisible string between us?

The one that seems to act as an anchor more often than not, leaving me stuck here waiting for him to look at me the way he’s currently looking at her.

“C’mon Genny, you love to dance,” Will says, so naturally that you would think it was common.

That he’s always telling me to go dance with a guy who isn’t him.

His gaze flickers over me quickly and I know he sees the hurt on my face, I see the tiny wince flash across his but it’s gone in a blink.

He grabs Lily’s hand and I watch her eyes widen in surprise.

“Maybe we can inspire them to join,” Will says, his voice low and shy, the one he’s only ever used with me.

Lily smiles at his plan. “Let’s do it”!

Before I can even register what’s just happened they're gone, moving toward the other couples swaying by the bonfire. I turn toward Dean, extending my hand and give him a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes. He doesn’t notice.

We sway, and I barely notice how long we do, the songs passing by one after another.

I politely laugh at Dean’s poor attempts at flirting, answering his questions but not quite enough to fall into a steady rhythm of conversation.

Lucky for me, the bonfire and music are loud enough that it makes talking hard.

It doesn’t seem to drown out the laughter coming from across the fire, though.

Will and Lily are illuminated in the orange glow, her head thrown back, her giggling almost melodic as Will dips his face next to hers to tell her something.

The song changes to a slower one and I watch as their bodies seem to fit together perfectly.

He gently grips her waist; she lets her head drop to his chest .

Rage burns inside me, a flame threatening to eat me alive. An arm wraps around my own waist, pulling me in. I meet Dean’s eyes; they’re nice, a dark brown. His lips pull in a slightly drunk grin and I give him a polite one back, my earlier buzz leaving me tired and sad.

“Can I kiss you, Gen?” he asks so softly, I almost miss it.

I blink surprised and feel a bit disoriented by the question.

I’m about to blurt out an excuse and end our dance when I look past his shoulder and watch the closeness of Lily and Will, how they aren’t even talking anymore, just silently swaying.

Both of their eyes closed. I look back at Dean and roll my lips together, arching my face up at his.

“Sure.” It comes out quiet, too and I’m not even sure he hears me until I feel his lips crash against mine.

The movement is sloppy and uncoordinated, not at all what I imagined this would feel like.

As I pull away, fighting the urge to use the back of my hand to wipe my face, I feel a deep sadness wash over me.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I—” Panic claws its way up my throat and I break away from him.

“Hey, are you okay? Did I overstep?” His face is concerned and I know that he’s probably a really nice guy. He’s just not the guy.

No— he’s currently dancing with a pretty blonde.

Regret consumes me and I know I have minutes to find refuge before I start crying.

“It’s not you. I just—I have to go.” I jog toward where I parked my bike, not worrying about letting Will know I left. Would he even care if I did?

I begin pedaling, feeling a range of emotions sweeping through me, my tears attempting to make their way down my face as I pass the streets, the sprawling homes going by in a blur .

I finally reach my house and throw my bike down, swinging the front door open, just wanting to get to my room as quickly as possible. To my utmost dismay, my mother is sitting in the foyer, a glass of white wine in one hand, her phone in the other.

“I’ll have to call you back.” She clicks the end call button on her phone and moves toward me.

“It’s late. Where have you—” She stops, clearly realizing the state of my emotions. Her eyes roam over my face like they’re tracing the track my tears are making, her breaths calm and even. “What is this, Genevieve?”

I swipe at the thin layer of tears coating my cheek, sniffing the tears back into the recesses of my head. She hates tears—she always has. “Nothing,” I tell her, making to move past her.

“What happened? Tell me now. Sit.” Her voice is firm but filled with more concern than she’s shown me my entire childhood. Granted, I don’t typically come home sobbing.

I take my time settling into the corner of the sofa, trying to regain my composure and failing, my lips wobbling.

“Did someone hurt you?” There’s a slight edge of panic in her voice and I can’t help but huff a laugh because yes—someone did hurt me. But it’s my fault for being vulnerable to him to begin with.

“No. Not like that. I just…” I glance over at my mother, her arms crossed against her chest as she peers pensively at me.

There’s a subtle openness, a slight opening in her gaze, and I find myself wishing more than anything for a mother who’d nurse me through this kind of heartbreak.

“Will met someone.” My face crumbles when I say it.

“And what did you do, hm?” She tilts her head, deep in thought .

I blink a few times, trying to formulate an answer. “I…I danced with someone else. He kissed me, but?—”

“Good,” she says, moving closer to brush a hand over my hair, her eyes the most maternal I’ve ever seen them.

“They want you most when you are unavailable. He’ll come back, ma bichette.

They always do.” The smile she gives me should make me feel warm inside, should be the reassurance I needed, but instead I still feel sick with jealousy and self-hatred.

“He will tire of the girl. Will want what he cannot have.”

I don’t want to be like my mother, praying on the weaknesses of others for my own gain. I don’t want to wait around like a siren, luring Will into my net with tricks and schemes. I want to be wanted .

Above all, I actually liked Lily. And I love Will. If I really love him…I should want him to be happy. Should be here for him, regardless of what that means for me.

My mother reaches for me, pulling me toward her and circling her arms around me in a tight embrace.

She hums Fais Dodo, a song she used to sing to me as a child, and the memories and melody lull me like the waves of the ocean.

I feel my heavy eyes begin to close and with each breath, I bury the pain of seeing Will fall in love with someone else.