Page 46 of Second Position (Astor Hill #2)

Gen

The steady silence backlit by the hum of Grant’s truck feels suffocating, my mouth a tight line as I use all my energy to keep my tears from falling.

I feel more than mortified—I feel wrecked.

Wrecked over the fact that Grant was able to let this one detail, this one secret, decide our fate, completely paint his view of me.

But more than anything I feel angry, at myself for feeling so disappointed, and at him for making me believe that things could be different.

As we approach the cobble stone street that the Greek life houses are stationed on, it’s apparent the party is in full swing.

Red solo cups litter the street and a few drunken freshmen in slutty animal costumes are shrieking the lyrics to Monster Mash.

I don’t want to be here. No part of me is ready to face these people, not after I just got rejected by the one person I didn’t think would reject me.

Still the need to climb out of this car and find Sloane or Jean overpowers my flight instinct.

Maybe I can beg them to take me home early.

Make up an excuse, if I have to. Anything to not have to pretend.

Grant parks and we step out of the car, both of our paces a little too quick.

“Gen…” He lightly grabs my arm and I finally meet his eyes.

“We can still go in together if you want…” His voice trails off with something akin to pity and it makes my skin crawl.

I don’t need him to feel bad for me. I chose this, to come here with him, to throw caution to the wind.

He’s the one having doubts and over what?

Some stupid secret that isn’t even mine to tell?

As if on cue at the top of the driveway, a crowd of people erupt in loud cheers as Will Chapman is turned upside down to do a keg stand.

I know keg stand Will. He’s the one that comes out when he’s sunken so low he feels the need to drown his sorrows in whatever alcohol he can find.

I feel that pinch of worry settle deep in my stomach.

I let out a small breath that must come out more like relief and less like the dread curving its way through me, because Grant immediately stiffens at my side.

“Never mind.” His jaw is set and I feel fury bubble beneath the surface of my skin. I know I need to put some space between us before I say something I’ll regret.

“I’m going to go find Sloane.” I walk past him, not turning back to see if he’s okay, even though I feel that thread between us tighten, trying to tug me back to him.

When I get to the house the keg stand crowd has dispersed, and I see Will walk in, two different girls on his arm, reflecting the most stereotypical version of himself.

The irony of the situation isn’t lost on me: Will blissfully unaware and me standing right behind him.

I can hear him slurring from where I’m standing, trying to explain the game of basketball to the girl on his right.

He stumbles slightly as he leads them to the room across from the kitchen and I feel the need to reach out, to shake him.

To tell him to not go down this bottomless pit again.

Instead I round the corner with my head down, swiftly moving into the kitchen, and barrel directly into Scott, who almost spills the shot glasses he’s holding.

“Gen? Is that you?” Scott squints his eyes, a disgusting grin spreading across his face.

His eyes trace every curve of my body and I instantly regret my choice of outfit.

I would blame Sloane, since she put together my Cleopatra inspired ensemble, but it would be a lie.

I felt amazing the moment I stepped in it, like I was moving into my final form or something.

But that was when I thought Grant would be by my side.

“You look hot. Do a shot with me.” He licks the sweat blooming on his upper lip away and I can’t help the look of disdain I know is on my face.

“No thanks. I’m fine.” The only reason I’m being polite to him is because I know Will is only a few yards away and I’m trying to avoid a scene.

“C’mon—” He leans in, his hot vodka scented breath polluting the air around me. “I know you’ve wanted this for a while.” He winks at me and leans in even more. I’m about to hit him over the head with the gold clutch Sloane lent me when he jolts back suddenly.

“She said no .” A low growl comes from a broad presence behind me and I’m flooded with relief as I feel Grant’s hand dig into my waist.

“Oh.” He squints his eyes, as if he’s trying to solve the world’s most obvious puzzle. “Are you guys a thing?” Scott’s face spreads into a knowing smirk even though his body is still rigid, clearly nervous by the hulking man whose arm is now guiding me behind him.

“Scott—if you don’t fuck off right now, I will beat the living shit out of you.

” Grant’s voice comes out grave, and even I feel for the guy as he turns, quickly spilling the shots in his hands and bolting for the back door.

The warmth from Grant’s arms hasn’t quite left my waist and I’m about to let myself sink into him, when I see Will.

He’s coming from the other side of the house but our eyes catch for just a second, and I feel myself lurch away from Grant’s grasp.

I don’t know why I do it, but I do, the absence of his hands like an omen. I turn around just in time to see the hurt slice through Grant’s features.

“Really, Gen?” He rips the mask off his face combing his hand through his light brown waves.

“Grant, I—” I don’t know what to say because nothing can reverse my reaction to his hand on my skin when Will’s eyes were on me.

He shakes his head, disappointment and betrayal shadowing every crevice of his face.

Turning, he pushes through the crowd at the base of the stairs.

I glance back at Will who’s looking at me with his own mask pushed up.

His eyebrows are knit, a mixture of confusion and a sadness so deep you could drown in it.

It’s the sadness I’ve, until now, helped him carry.

I shut my eyes and breathe through my nose, pushing down the memories of the night Lily died and all the nights I spent with this boy I loved for so long.

I turn my back on him, push past the same group and follow Grant up the stairs.

The hallway is empty, but I hear a door click closed near the end of a long hallway to my left. I rush toward it pushing it open and there he is, sitting on a stranger's bed, head buried in his hands.

“Grant, let me explain.” My voice is breathless and hoarse—it doesn’t feel like my own. My phone rings and I quickly ignore the call without looking, letting it roll to voicemail .

“Explain what?” His eyes meet mine, his tone venomous and the hurt reverberates between us. “Why you keep choosing him ?”

I flinch. His words are laced with so much disgust that they can’t possibly be directed at me. “I didn’t choose him.” My fingers tremble and I force myself to ball them into a fist so he doesn’t see.

He moves off the bed, lacing his fingers on top of his head and lets out a sardonic laugh.

“Right, sorry, you're just keeping a life-ruining secret for the guy who you swear you’re no longer in love with, because…remind me again? I don’t fucking understand.”

My lip wobbles, betraying me, but I pinch my eyes shut forcing it to stop and replacing it with anger.

“He’s my best friend.” It comes out as a whisper and his eyes pinch.

Defensiveness ebbs through me and I feel anger roaring to the surface.

“He’s in a really dark place, Grant. Do you want me to just abandon him? ”

“You can be there for someone without stooping to their level.”

My phone rings again and again I reject the call.

“Jesus Christ, just turn it off!” Grant’s frustration clashes with my own as I shakily pull my phone out of my bag. I’m about to silence it when a name catches my eye.

Will.

I scroll through the thirty or so texts, each one making the panic more apparent that courses through me.

Will

I need you

It’s been really bad the past few weeks.

Please Genny. I need you.

I don’t want to be here anymore

“Gen…who is it? Are you okay?” His voice comes out softer, the anger melting into concern and I want to dissolve, melt into the floor and disappear.

Tears spring to my eyes and I know I need to choose and it’s so obvious my choice should be Grant. I know I’m being manipulated. I know Will saw me looking at Grant the way I used to look at him.

But what if he’s serious? What if he really is back in that place?

My mind flashes back to that night where the Will I knew, the one I let consume me, fell away.

That sunken side of the bed where he laid for days on end.

The hollow gray lacing his features. That feeling that there was nothing I could do, nothing I could say to stop the grief from crashing over him again and again, while I sat there and watched.

I used to pray there was some magic spell, a star I could wish on, anything to bring him back to me.

What I would give to bring him back, the boy who died the same night she did.

Grant stiffens, seeing the agony lap against me. “Tell me it isn’t him.”

“Grant—” my voice is hoarse as I feel the desperation seeping from my pores, the need for him to understand.

“He needs me,” is all I’m able to get out like a plea and I suck in small short breaths, trying to keep my tears at bay.

Trying not to show Grant just how much this moment is destroying us, but when I look up, I see it’s too late.