The Way I Am Now (The Way I Used to Be, #2)

by Amber Smith

But then I’m around her and I remember almost immediately that for all her darkness, she can be just as bright, too.

“Well, fuck, Josh.” She throws her hands up. “This is just classic us all over again, isn’t it?” Classic us. I hate that I love the way that sounds.

“You don’t need to be worried about that,” I tell him. Because it wouldn’t be someone like Josh—there’s no one like Josh—it would be Josh.

Mara stops short and turns around to face me again. “I’m Team Edy, by the way,” she says.

“I think you love the person you knew back then, the person you believe I can become again one day. But that’s not the same as loving me the way I am now.”

She spent so much of our relationship hiding her emotions because this is how she feels things—deeply, completely. That and this: she really has always cared.

Or maybe I’ve been holding my breath so long, I don’t know what it’s like to breathe easily anymore.

I look at my wrist, at my own personal dandelion, little seeds floating off toward the palm of my hand. Wishes, hopes. Mine.

“Did you ever say the word no?” he almost yells at me now. I look down at my tattoo again. Then back up, except this time, instead of looking at White Hair or CeCe or Mara or Lane, I look at Kevin. He’s watching me closely, that same knifelike stare he used to control me, all this time, up until now.

She was unlike anyone I’d ever known, and I was so intimidated by her—but I liked her. I wanted to know her, wanted her to know me. It was that simple. I was sure. She was worth whatever risk came with trying. Then and now.

“This is a good place,” I tell him. “For what?”

“To be ready,” I answer. And then I take his hand in mine. I squeeze once. He looks down at me and squeezes back, two light pulses. I repeat myself, clearly this time, no questions, no doubts. “I’m ready.”