Secrets

41 | hadley

I feel guilty, because I can't. I've been on edge ever since spotting her and I don't know why. She's always been my safe space. So why am I suddenly so nervous around her? Why do things between us feel so . . . different?

As if reading my mind, Devon leans down so that her lips are adjacent with my ear. "I'll be right back," she whispers to me. "Okay if I use the bathroom real quick?"

I nod to express my response. Devon squeezes my hand and offers a tight smile before disappearing, wandering alone through the crowd. I watch after her as she goes, wondering why I don't feel empty without her presence beside me.

Sloane intercepts me before I have a moment to breathe. One second, she's out of sight. The next, she's standing before me; all wide-eyed and open-mouthed, the perfect image of remorse.

"I'm so sorry," she says in a rush of breath. "I didn't mean to ruin anything for you, I swear. If I would have known–"

"It's fine," I cut her off briskly. She raises her eyebrows at my harsh tone, so I offer a forced smile as an apology. "Nobody did anything wrong. Let's just have a good time, okay?"

Sloane furrows her eyebrows, studying me with cautious eyes. She nods finally, so I gesture for her to follow as I walk off to find my friends. I try to live in the moment as I join my group, recalling how important this night was supposed to be for me. Technically, I'm getting exactly what I wanted. Devon is here. We get to spend this night together.

Yet she's nowhere to be seen.

Song after song plays with no Devon in sight. I try not to let this fact bother me. I laugh with my friends, force smile after smile. Bianca and Grace loop me into a circle, spinning all around me. Mason and Kai dance together, making the most of the night. Clover and her date kiss in the center of the dance floor like nobody's watching. Sloane sort of lingers on the outskirts. Dammit, I'm so tired of feeling pity for her. Knowing I'll come to regret it, I take her hand and pull her toward the rest of us. We take turns twirling each other around, dresses flaring around our feet. I'd be lying if I said I didn't notice how pretty she looks now, eyes luminous with the reflection of the lights overhead, features brought out by the golden dress she wears.

I'm spinning Sloane around once more when suddenly I spot Devon. She stands in the far corner of the room, alone and observant. Her hands are placed deep within her pockets, her expression distant as she gazes at me from afar.

Time turns to liquid around me. There is nothing but Devon. Devon and the hurt gleaming in her eyes.

I drop Sloane's hand without a word. I'm not in control of my feet as they lead me toward Devon, drawn to her by some magnetic force. She remains in place as I draw closer, up until I'm merely inches away. Then she turns her back and wanders off, as if trying to escape me.

I run after her. I can't look around the room as I do, not without seeing her everywhere. When I close my eyes I see Devon's arms around my frame as she spins me around this very room during junior homecoming. I picture volleyball nets and Devon's lithe figure as she plays the sport. Heading down the hallway in the corner and kissing her in the coach's office.

I try to shake the déjà vu off as Devon exits the gym and makes her way to the parking lot. This scene is all too familiar, yet the roles are reversed. I wonder if this is how Devon felt all those times she was the one running after me.

The metal doors are loud as I crash through them, trying my best to keep pace with Devon in these heels. I spot her standing by the streetlight, her breath visible as it curls up into the air before fading into oblivion. I shiver, still not used to the cold air of autumn.

"Devon . . ." Her name feels foreign escaping my lips. The word fades to nothing as I realize I have no clue what to say next.

"I feel so fucking stupid," Devon mutters, shaking her head as she chuckles solemnly to herself.