Maybe Meant to Be by K. L. Walther

Author:K. L. Walther
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sourcebooks

CHAPTER 16

CHARLIE

After running into Luke and Sage at the movies, the night sped up and soon broke into fragments. I first remembered getting really drunk and breaking up with Val. “So admit it, asshole,” she’d said. “I want you to admit it. That you run away from anything remotely serious because you’re incapable of feeling anything for anyone who isn’t Sage. You love her, but you’re too scared to do anything about it!”

Everything was swaying by the time Sage showed up later, old floorboards creaking beneath her feet. Her voice sounded warped, like we were underwater. “Charlie.”

I’m sorry, I was about to say, because she was already crying. Her eyes were red-rimmed with tears trailing down her cheeks.

She stole the Bacardi from me. “What is this?”

“Rum!” I crowed, but my voice more so warbled. “It could do with some Coke, but—”

“No,” she spat out. “What is this doing here? Where did you get it?”

I groaned.

“Answer me, Charlie.”

“I’m so tired.” I shook my head. “So, so tired.”

“Well, yeah,” she said, her voice still harshly distorted. “It looks you just drank a whole handle of pure alcohol.”

“No,” I groaned again, letting my shoulders slump. “So tired of being this guy, Sage. So tired of practicing that smile, practicing those lines. So tired of not having—”

“A person?” she whispered a second after I’d dropped off. “So tired of not having a…true person?”

A true person. I pressed the heels of my palms hard against my eyes. Deep down, I knew Sage knew. About me. Somewhere along the way, she’d figured it out. It wasn’t a shocker, and it wasn’t the problem. My chest clenched. The problem was now I’d brought the whole thing up, up to the door; my closet had always been straight out of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, leading all the way back to Narnia. And I wanted it to stay that way.

Even if I was tired. Even if I was exhausted. Even if I wanted him.

When I looked at Sage again, her phone was pressed against her ear. “Are you still awake?” she was saying, and then I heard her mumble something about not needing help burying the body, but needing help carrying it.

My legs wobbled, and I squinted as Sage slung my lifeless arm over her shoulder. “Is that Nicky’s Patagonia?” I asked, suddenly noticing her fleece’s horrific tribal print.

She didn’t answer.

I woke up on the chesterfield with a dry throat and a throbbing headache. I was underneath the plaid comforter he must’ve dragged down from my sky-high bed, with my trash can on standby. One of my towels was spread out on the floor in case my aim was off, and there was also a tall glass of water on the trunk. I reached for it and then noticed a bottle of Advil and a Post-it Note.

You are a moron, it said in half print, half cursive.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.