Lost to You (13 page)

I tugged my pillow over my face as if it could block out everything I didn’t want to see.

“Fuck,” I groaned. I tore it from my face and tossed it to the floor. There was nothing that could cover it up or blot it out.

In the cloudy dimness of the room, I sat up and rubbed the pain pressing at my bare chest.

I knew this would happen. I’d take the one pure thing in my life and crush it.

The expression Elizabeth had bore Friday night flooded my mind.

In a futile defense, I squeezed my eyes closed against the memory, but there was nothing I could do to elude it. The image was like a parasite that had glommed on, dug in, feasting on the ignorance of its host.

It was slowly killing me.

It didn’t take long for me to realize something inside me had shattered when I shattered her.

Fear wasn’t an emotion I knew well, but I’d never felt it stronger than in that moment when Elizabeth had backed me into a corner with that expression on her face. Floundering, my body sought retreat as she silently begged, and I was hit with a fear that had nailed me to her door—fear that she had the capacity to look at me that way, fear that I wanted to touch her so badly, fear that she’d never let me again, fear screaming at me to run.

I’d given into the last.

I opened the door and shut her out because I didn’t have the strength to handle what was happening between us. I was
eighteen
. I didn’t want this. Wasn’t ready for it.

But now... I raised my face and released a remorseful breath into the stuffy apartment air.

I missed her.

Nothing else seemed to matter but that single truth.

She held so much control over me, and I never even realized it. I mean, yeah, she was my best friend, but losing her shouldn’t have hurt this much.

Saturday morning I left a bunch of messages, trying to make amends, hoping to convince her we could somehow go back to the way we’d been, but each time I was forced to listen to the sweetness of her voice through her recorded message.

That afternoon, she’d finally called me back. Relief tore through me like a welcomed tempest when my phone had lit up with her number, until her tone seeped through the line, despondent and withdrawn.

“I can’t see you anymore, Christian,” she’d said through a barely audible whisper. I opened my mouth to argue, to convince her that night was just a mistake, and to find some way to take it back.

Her voice had cracked, and she cut me off with a quiet, “Please. I need you to do this for me.”

Yeah, I was a fool, but I wasn’t stupid. Even if I tried to convince her otherwise, we both knew that night wasn’t a simple misstep. We weren’t just two friends messing around, hands and tongue and skin that never should have been. Because I’d never felt anything close to what I felt when I kissed her.

She’d hung up the phone without a parting word.

Out of respect, I left her alone. Because I did care about her, even if I was too much a coward to tell her.

The last thing I wanted was to harm her more than I already had, and Elizabeth wanted more from me than I knew how to give.

The night I left, I shut the door between us with a deafening click, but I hadn’t gone far. From the other side of her door, I stopped to listen to her weep, felt the magnitude of what I’d done to her.

After that, how could I argue with her when she asked me to leave her alone?

The only hint of her over the last four days had been the back of her head from where she sat far down and across from me in the lecture hall in our American Government class. The entire class had been spent with me staring down at her, desperate for her to acknowledge me, though she never did. Her hair was piled in a sloppy bun on top of her head, the blonde in complete disarray. In the few fleeting glimpses I’d managed to catch of the side of her face, she appeared to be as much of a mess as I was.

That’s what this was, a fucking unbearable mess.

When did she become everything without me knowing it?

And was it real or some skewed perception induced by the loss of her presence?

The alarm blared from my nightstand. I reached over and slammed my fist down to silence the shrill sound. Sleep had been scarce, an unfamiliar agitation rising up in my nerves, memories of Elizabeth bleeding together morning and night.

Rolling from bed, I stood and stretched my arms overhead. Everything was sore, inside and out. Wrong. Because Elizabeth was gone.

I plodded to the bathroom and switched on the light. The mirror reflected everything I felt. Sighing, I ran my hand down my cheeks and under my chin. Dark hair shadowed my face because apathy had rid me of the energy to shave since Friday, and my hair stuck up in every direction. But it was my eyes that scared me. They were lost.

Shit.

With both hands, I held myself up on the sink, dropped my head, and tried to pull it together. Still, I couldn’t find anything inside myself that mattered anymore.

I forced myself into the shower and went through the routine. In my dim room, I tossed my dampened towel to the bed and dressed in the quiet.

I just wanted to fix this. To take it back. But I didn’t know how when the memory of how she’d fit so perfectly in my arms reigned supreme. I’d been seared by her kiss, marked by her hands.

My best friend.

I shook my head and slung my backpack onto my shoulders, willing myself into the right frame of mind for my last day of classes before the short Thanksgiving break.

How the hell would I survive through dinner with my parents tomorrow?

Locking my apartment door behind me, I made my way downstairs. I sucked in a sharp breath when a shock of cold air blasted my face as I stepped outside. I should have thought to put on a heavier jacket.

I’d spent the last mindless nights on the couch with the television droning, obscured voices that barely registered telling me New York City would get an early winter, while I wallowed in the absence of Elizabeth.

All I could think about was her. What was she doing? What was she feeling? Did she miss me as much as I missed her?

I headed toward campus, my face down as I forced myself to move. My hands sought warmth in my jeans pockets, my shoulders rigid as I joined the flock of students heading to morning classes. Sounds filtered in all around me, but none were really heard. I trudged forward, the loss of Elizabeth a thousand pounds added to my feet. All I wanted to do was turn around, crawl back in bed, and sleep the day away.

Outside my class, students filed inside. I stopped and stared in indecision at the dark hole they disappeared into. People jostled past me, grunted their annoyance as I stood stock still in the middle of the steps. I couldn’t make myself go inside.

Blindly, I wandered the campus, not surprised I ended up in front of the building where Elizabeth’s math class was held. How many times had I sat with her on those steps while she crammed for an extra couple seconds, hurried to ask me a few more questions, stressed that she was going to fail her exam while I promised her she would to do great?

Right now, she’d be inside, sitting at her desk. I could see her there, her head tilted to the side, doodling at the corner of her notebook like she always did, lost in thought. Would she think of me?

I raked a hand through my hair. Visible breaths filled the ice-cold air as I huffed and began to pace. What the fuck was I doing? She asked me to leave her alone, and now I was stalking her outside her class.

But I couldn’t leave. I just wanted...something. I’d always wanted
something
. From the moment I saw her, I knew it was different, knew it was
more
.

I hovered in the distance of her building door, willing myself to get it together and honor Elizabeth’s wishes.

Randomly, the double doors would open, a few people casually walking in or out, then every ten minutes or so, droves would come or go as a class began or was released.

An hour later, the doors opened again. A loud flow of students came down the steps as they left for wherever they were going for the holiday.

And I just stood there. Waiting. Waiting for her.

Her head was down when she surfaced behind the crowd at the door. Her feet appeared as heavy as my heart as she made her way down the steps. My eyes bore into the top of her head, willing her to look up.

I could see it when she felt me, the way she slowed and her hand reached for the railing to give her support. Cautiously, she raised her face to mine. She was halfway down the flight of brick steps when she stopped. She stood twenty feet from me, this wistful expression on her face that knocked the air from my lungs. She no longer appeared angry or hurt. In its place was the same loneliness I’d been swimming in for days, her playful eyes now somber and unsure. Her hair was still a mess, though now it blew free in the short gusts of wind.

My heart thudded. There was no one in the world that could compare to this girl.

She stood frozen, her knuckles white as she gripped the railing, staring at me as I slowly approached.

I stopped at the bottom of the steps, the difference in height bringing us face to face.

“What are you doing here?” she whispered, the sound almost lost in the wind. Regret knotted inside me when she spoke the same words that had spurred our downfall five nights before.

I repeated mine. “
I don’t know
, Elizabeth. I don’t know anything, except that I
miss
you.”

Elizabeth seemed to search for air, struggled to pull in a breath. “Christian—”

I cut her off. “I don’t know how to get past what happened the other night, but I can’t go on pretending that I’m okay without you in my life. I haven’t slept in days because all I think about is you. I mean...” I wet my lips, my eyes frantic as they took in every inch of her face. Agony, the partner to mine, was written there, clear and concise. “Look at you, Elizabeth.” I took a chance and reached out and touched her face. A bolt of need struck me deep. Through an open mouth, I released a tremulous breath and took a step away as I softened my voice. “Don’t tell me you don’t miss me as much as I miss you.”

Close enough to be swallowed by her presence, an apprehensive energy vibrated between us. She fidgeted and fisted the hand at her side. “I miss you, too...so much.” The last part rasped from her mouth. “But I don’t know how to be around you anymore. Don’t you see it, Christian?” She frowned as her head drifted to one side. “Didn’t you feel that when you touched me? Do you think either of us can ignore that anymore? Because I can’t.”

I rushed a nervous hand over my face, trying to clear my thoughts, to offer her something other than the promise she wanted me to make.

“At least come with me tomorrow night. It’s Thanksgiving and I can’t stand the thought of you spending it alone. I know I messed up and the last people you probably want to be around are my parents, but I want you there.” I gripped a handful of hair and let the truth bleed out. “I
need
you there, okay? You’re my best friend. I meant that, Elizabeth. Even with everything else, you’re still my
best friend
. That’s all that matters to me.”

Softly, her lids fell closed. I could see her wavering, hesitating over every concealed unknown we both wished we could see. She finally opened her eyes, the smallest movement of her head as she timidly nodded. “Okay.”

Okay.

My pounding heart steadied, the torment of the last five days silenced.

Okay.

She blinked a thousand questions, the uncertainty in her frame mimicking everything I felt. Neither of us knew where we were headed or how we’d handle these unanswered questions. The only thing I could do was hang onto her
okay
. Somehow I knew we would be okay.

“We’re supposed to meet my parents at the restaurant at 6:00, so I’ll meet you at your apartment at 5:30. We’ll have to take a cab.”

“I’m guessing I need to dress up?”

I offered a compensating laugh and scratched at the nape of my neck. “Uh...yeah.”

Elizabeth frowned in the cutest way. “Of course you’d have to make me dress up.” That tease was inflected in her tone, the casual ease I loved about Elizabeth.

Maybe we could make it back to that place.

Cocking my chin up and to the side, a playful grin spread my lips. “Oh, you can blame that all on my parents. And I probably don’t need to warn you about them. Just plan on a dinner filled with awkward silences interjected with the occasional bouts of my dad criticizing me for being a total failure. Don’t worry. Chances are, they won’t find you worth looking twice in your direction.”

I injected as much humor as I could dish into the words, though they still came with a bite, an early apology for what I was about to put her through. I felt obligated to warn her how absolutely terrible dinner would be, how callus my parents truly were. Honestly, I hated to subject her to them, but I wasn’t lying when I told her I needed her there.

That tenderness I could never deserve surfaced on her face again, a sympathy only offered in the kindness of my friend. “I get it, Christian.” Her arm swung out, her fingers grazing just the side of my hand. “I’m going for you. Not for them.”