The Worst Kind of Promise (Riverside Reapers #2)

by Celeste Briars

like astigmatism through a windshield on a rainy drive.

me

Anger overwhelms my brother’s features, but so does fear. Fear that I’ve never seen before. It lives in his watercolor eyes, extending all the way down to his very soul.

“You take drugs all the time!”

“That’s different, Faye! And for your information, I only took them a few times in college. Always surrounded by people I trusted.”

“How is that any different? Stop treating me like…” Like I’m a baby? Like I’m fragile? Like I’m broken?

If I had a diary—which I should probably invest in after the trauma I’ve endured this year—here’s what I’d write for today’s entry: FUCK YOU, KIT LANGLEY. I HOPE YOUR DICK FALLS OFF IN A FREAK ACCIDENT.

I’m not pissed because I’m stuck in Satan’s hot-as-balls ass crack—I’m pissed because I can’t stop thinking about Faye.

then it’s been approximately five thousand seven hundred sixty minutes since we last exchanged any words.

four days

I’m sorry. I never meant to lead you on, Faye. This was never going to work. You were just so blinded by something you could never have.

Knowing that you have to end things because they deserve better, or because they were simply the right person at the wrong time.

Don’t get me wrong—I’m a douchebag. No matter how shitty I feel, I know Faye is feeling it ten times worse. And I’ll never forgive myself for the way I treated her.

I’m familiar with how scolding works. Yell, cower, yell again, promise to be better. It’s a cycle that’ll probably follow my troublesome ass for the rest of my life.

I pause, trying to gather my thoughts and spew out something believable, but all my heart keeps screaming is “Because I love her!”

But I don’t say any of that. “Because KJ was being a stupid twat.”

“Because you care about her,” he corrects.

“He’s lucky all I broke was his nose,”

“Hey, I’m not blaming you. If I wasn’t a pacifist, I probably would’ve thrown a few punches myself.”

But when people mess with those I care about, I’ll stop at nothing until they fucking pay for it.

Instead of the truth bouncing off me like a bullet ricocheting off a bulletproof vest, it fully punctures my chest, exploding my ribs open in a slow-motion, car-crash-dummy kind of way.

I told her it was all a mistake. That she was a mistake.

My cheeks grow impossibly warm, flushed with a feverish haze. It doesn’t help that the sun is somehow defying all laws of gravity and only aiming for my retinas—no other spot in the gym.

I pick Faye in every universe. In the ones where we’re best friends, in the ones where we’re sworn enemies, in the ones where we’re strangers who live on opposite ends of the world. I pick her.

I’d created this narrative that abandoning her was always my plan from the start, and that was never the case.

I know what I’m putting at risk here—my relationship with Hayes. I know I’m choosing her over him. I know I should think harder about all of this. But if she spends another second not knowing that I’m so completely infatuated with her, I don’t know if I’ll survive.

And then you see them standing there, waiting for you, waiting for all the possible adventures you two are about to have and the memories you’ll treasure from them, and the breath comes easy. Crisp and fresh and like nothing you’ve ever tasted before because you’ve been so used to breathing tainted air.

Is that what love feels like? And if so, am I destined to live a life smothered in a smog-infused atmosphere?

Both of which would be better consequences than having to face the love of my life after brutally ripping her heart out.

He did not just say what I think he did, did he? I’m gonna choke that motherfucker until he passes out.

Nobody should be looking at Faye’s tits, much less asking her to grab them and squeeze them together. Ah, fuck. That’s an image I really don’t need right now.

“One boob wall coming up.”

Yeah, that’s not the only thing flaring up. Hey, dick. It’s me, Kit. I know we usually get along, but right now, I need you to deflate faster than a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade balloon. Don’t look at Faye’s breasts. Don’t look at Faye, period. Think about that time your grandmother fell down the stairs and died.

I’m taking the L now.

“The winning team doesn’t get anything, but the losing team gets humiliated. If you lose, you have to pick someone from the winning team to mimic your favorite sex position with.”

this means he will lose because ✨️drama✨️

That pint-sized little shit makes me so unbelievably violent sometimes.

Abandoning any salvageable subtlety, I march over to them with jealousy knocking into my solar plexus, and my temper ascends to dangerous levels.

sir your testosterone is showing please calm down

“Fulton was just about to show me his favorite sex position,” she announces.

My teeth tear apart the growl rising in my throat. “Like hell he was.”

“I was?” he squeaks. “Yep.”

“Doggy, right?”

“This won’t be hard at all. Because I don’t feel anything for you anymore.”

I need to be tranquilized. I need to jump into a cold lake while I’m tranquilized, and then slowly drown because that’ll be less painful.

“Your keys are poking me.”

Lila catches on immediately, throwing herself into the ring with a wicked little grin. “I’m officially done with boys,” she announces.

Mid-drink, Aeris chokes on her water. “You’re turning lesbian?”

“Men suck,” I agree.

“Oh, yeah. Men suck balls. Death to the patriarchy!”

There’s a scream. A high-pitched, bone-chilling scream. And it’s coming from the blond across from me.

Did he follow me here? Did he place an AirTag on the bottom of my shoe or something? How did he know where I was?

And none of it was true. None of it.”

hes gonna be crushed when she rejects him AGAIN

“Guilt’s a bitch, isn’t it?” Kit’s face twists in pain, his jaw