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I’m kissing a boy. He’s all smooth, flat planes, and sharpened edges, leaving no fucking doubt whatsoever as to the fact it’s a guy I hold in my arms. Jeremy…
The heels of my palms dig into his jaw, guiding him where I want him as I devour his mouth like a man possessed. Licking and sucking at lips I didn’t know how badly I craved until this very moment. How I went so long without this… I’ll never know.
Black lashes coated with the rain that comes down harder and colder now. Cheeks damp and flushed. Lips red and swollen. Me. I did that.
He kissed me. Mason Wyatt fucking kissed me. He kissed me. And I kissed him back. Me…Mason…kissing… No matter how I spin it, it just doesn’t compute.
“Please don’t fucking leave me, Iz.”
This hurts way more in this book. I knew it was coming, and still. Ouch.
“She’s really fucking gone,” I hear uttered, croaked. And my vision tilts. There’s a hitch of breath, followed by Waylon whispering, “She’s gone.”
“I wish it was you.” “Me too.”
Nononononono
“I wish it was me more.” Mason. “Sometimes I wish it was you too,” Waylon admits quietly.
If it wasn’t for Will yanking Waylon out of the line of fire, it could’ve been very, very bad.
Good thing that where there's a Way, there's a Will
Waylon’s scrubbing his hands down his face. He’s visibly trembling—his shoulders shaking. Just behind him, I catch Will tugging at his shirt, trying to turn him around. He only has eyes for Waylon, his concern a tangible, undeniable thing.
I love them so much
No coming back from the boy I love kissing me, then calling me by my dead sister’s name. No coming back from finally, stupidly thinking maybe—just fucking maybe—there was a chance. That I was an option for Mason.
I fucking hate him. And for the first time ever… For one sharp, swift beat that will forever be a black spot on my shattered heart… I don’t wish it was me who got taken instead of Izzy. I wish it was him.
Without her, I’ve been half a person. And now without him too, I’ll be lucky if there’s even a sliver of me left.
I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. If I could, I’d take the tears from your eyes kiss the tears from your eyes If anyone could wash away these lies I cling and cleanse me of these lies masquerading as truths I never meant to make you cry Tell me, tell me where I go from here How do I apologize How do I make you believe the sober truth about drunken lies How do I turn sorrys into never agains, when I can’t be certain I won’t keep fucking up in the end? Oh, how I wish you could invade my mind Crawl under my skin Feel my heart beat in the cradle of your hands You’d have to know I’d let you, I’d do
...more
“I loved Izzy. I thought…I thought we’d be together for the rest of our lives. I didn’t even…” Question it. My words trail off before I can finish the thought. And a voice in my head pipes up, quiet, and foreign after having been silenced for years. But you did… You did start to question it.
I asked you earlier, if it’s your love for Izzy that has kept you hanging on all this time…” She trails off meaningfully. “Or is it something else?”
“The real question here is, not whether or not you love Izzy. I know you do. You know you do.” I nod stiffly. Love. Not past tense this time. “What I’m curious to know, is if you’ve been holding onto her for this long, this desperately, because of your love for her and nothing else… Then why the second her brother mentioned trading places, did all of that resistance inside you crumble?”
Made even worse by the I love yous and it’s okays falling desperately from Will’s mouth as Ivy and Shawn wrangled Waylon away from him, shoving him to his knees.
My babies
“You can cry, you know,” she says. I shake my head. “Why not?” My voice comes out razor-thin, nearly inaudible, “I’ll never stop.”
Literally me
“You know…she’d want you to be happy, right?” she says, her voice thickening with emotion. Sniffing, I nod. “I know.” “Both of you.”
“Maybe it’s just not meant to be fixed,” I finally say. I look down at my lap. “Maybe there’s nothing left to fix.” No body to bring home. No friendship to hang on to. It’s all dust.
“I’m done being some kind of…stand-in for her. A place for him to dump all that love on, because she’s not here to take it.”
“The Mason I knew and loved died with her. I see that now.” Her face bunches, eyes watering. “Sweet boy…” I shrug. “It is what it is. At least now I can…finally accept that, and grieve them both, and-and move on with my life. Start over.”
At this rate, I’ll be lucky if I didn’t cost myself two, if not three, of the most important people in my life. And for what? A ghost?
Oof. Mason, Jesus...
Worry about the breaths that come after, not the ones already wasted.
Something tells me fixing shit with Jeremy is going to be a lot more complicated than fixing shit with Waylon.
Bruh
“You care about him.” Shawn glances down, his jaw tightening. “He’s a little shit.” My lip twitches at that, memories of a time where I thought the same flickering through my head. “And yet he worms his way in.”
Way is my fave. I love that grumpy sad man
Soft lips Soft hair. Soft skin. Hard jaw. Hard chest. Hard— I clear my throat, and sit up a little straighter,
I think you sat up a little gayer actually
Waylon ended up on the bridge with his dad’s hand gun. How he pulled the trigger, but the safety was on.
Ugh my precious boy
All these years, I was terrified it’d be Jeremy. Despite his insistences. Despite his promises… When in fact, it was the guy with the perpetual smirk and deep-seated dimples and devil may care attitude who was hanging on by an actual thread I should’ve been paying closer attention to.
Fuck, Izzy. I’m so sorry. I told you I’d take care of him…and I failed. I failed them both…
Everything will be okay. Because I’m gonna be better. For him. For Shawn. For Mom, Phoebe… For me… I’ll be better. And then hopefully I can be better for Jeremy too.
And then he crouches on the tile. And he buries his face in his hands and just… He just cries.
Will </3
I was a casualty. I’ve been a casualty. A scapegoat. An excuse. A crutch. Nothing more.
He doesn’t actually see you. I’m just the closest thing he’s got to her.
“JJ,” he whispers, his voice breaking. My jaw ticks. Asshole. “Don’t call me that.” He starts to smile, but then seems to realize I’m actually being serious this time.
I haven’t seen him since last weekend, when Ivy and I tricked Will and Waylon into finally reuniting after weeks of radio silence.
It was a good idea. Great actually. A+++
Waylon’s… Gay? Bi? Queer? Whichever. Doesn’t really matter. It’s just fucking wild to me that all this time, he was suffering too, in his own way. Makes me sad he didn’t think he could tell me, when he knew what I was going through as a kid.
If anything, it’ll be the final nudge I need to slap a lock on the box that is Mason Wyatt, and finally shelve it for good.
That's cute, Jer, but no
Will seems to be closer with everyone—even Shawn. Waylon too, and that’s…surprising. He wanted nothing to do with him when he first moved back. Guess Waylon finally got over his grudge.
Hahahahahahaha
“You kissed me back,” I murmur, my voice distant under the thundering roar in my ears. A beat passes, then— “I’m gay, Mason,” he says in a guttural voice. “And you’re gorgeous, and you have a stupid lip ring that was digging into my lip.” He flings a hand out. “Not to mention what else was fucking digging into me. What the fuck did you expect??”
“You’re straight, Mason, for one. And—” “Am I?” I whisper before I can stop it. At that, his eyes widen.
“I was hard. I got…I got turned on.” And that wasn’t even the first time I got hard over a dude… Over Jeremy.
Hell, once I popped a woody in the movie theater over watching Captain America use his bare hands to stop a helicopter from flying off. Like, come on, that— My brain just sort of… glitches out. Oh. Ohhhhh.
*literal face palm*
“Then why…why am I sober right now, and I still want this?” My voice cracks, betraying me. “Why?”
“Jeremy,” I whisper. He blinks rapidly. “I…” “Jeremy.” Pinching his chin, I tip his head back. He gulps—loudly—just as I swoop down, dancing my lips off his in a featherlight kiss.
“Because…because you and I both know that if she were here, I wouldn’t even be an option.”
“I can’t do this anymore,” he tells me. Blinking against the tears rapidly forming, I say, “Do what?” He gestures roughly between us. “This. Us. I’m done.”
“It’s always about her. Even when she’s dead, it’s all about her. Always has been, always will be with you,” he spits. I flinch. “Mason and Izzy,” he growls. “A tragic love story for the ages. I’m so fucking sick of being in the middle of it. I didn’t ask for this!”
“Sometimes, I really fucking hate her. You know that?” His voice trembles. “I hate her. And I love her. And I miss her. And I want to grieve her. I want to let her rest, but you won’t let me!”
