BEAU (original version)| ✓

16

• CHAPTER SIXTEEN •
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There's a high chance Kendra's watching me from the cafeteria doors.

This time she's alone, her tray of food in her hands as her eyes pretend to rove the rowdy ensemble of students. After last night's ordeal and now being labelled as an outcast by the only family I had to lean on, Kendra's face looks like a home away from home. I find myself eager to exchange one more kiss with her, to bask in her presence, to feel her hands brush my skin and to tell her I'm sorry.

I need her and I'm sorry.

I suppress my urges and gawk at the unfinished sketch on the table. The flowing curls are half-shaded and the perfect symmetry of her cupid's bow, her tender lips, upturned into a mellow smile. My fingers seek out to touch it as if it were the real Kendra sitting right beside me, but it's all a senseless mirage and the actual beauty is somewhere else with the other boy she's learning to love.

"Beau?" I look up expecting to see Presley. I'm met with her clouded eyes instead.

Swiftly closing the sketchbook, I push it aside and hang my head low. I can't bear the truth – this truth. "What're you doing here?"

Kendra puts her tray of food down, slipping into the available space. She's so close that when I inhale all I smell is her; there's the sweet aroma of roses and jasmines. I almost slant into her just to tickle my senses to breathe in more of her. Stale cigarettes and whiskey become tiring after a couple of days.

"You looked like you needed some company," she responds and kindly motions for me to take her lunch. She made it a habit over the years we spent together. "How's my Marc doing?"

"He's good." I don't mention the other details. "Still making his origami swans."

Quite the opposite, really. He's forgotten all about his favourite pastime, and ever since his dealings with Ethan, I don't think he'll be remembering any time soon.

"You're hiding something," Kendra talks softly, reaching up, her hand caressing the violet markings decorating my jaw and tracing the cut on my bottom lip. "But you're not going to tell me what really happened. I get that now."

"Where's Scott?" my voice diminishes and is carried away by the clamour around us. I let the other noises overpower our silence. My mind is a traffic jam of thoughts and questions that do nothing to ease me about the fact that what we're doing is going to end terribly.

"I don't know," Kendra undoes the buttons of her brown coat, more interested in them than the unease floating between us. "It's not my job to worry about him."

"Isn't he your boyfriend?"

"No." Her face morphs into a grimace, brows creasing. "Never."

I go silent and stare at the surface of the table, trying to untangle the words so desperately close to breaking free from my throat.

"I love you; you know that." She places a hand over my knee as her head tilts back, her internal struggle on full display. When she bites down on her bottom lip, I want nothing more than to trace its perfect curve, feel them press in gently against my own. "You can tell me anything, Beau. It won't change the way I feel about you."

Unable to stare at Kendra any longer, my line of sight shifts to her cold lunch. "If I told you, you'd be involved. I don't want that for you. You don't deserve all these terrible things."

"Neither do you. So why are you keeping it all inside?"

"Because I'm still so in love with you and it hurts feeling this way when I'm constantly lying. I wanted you to hate me so that I wouldn't regret what I did. It was so stupid because I just made things worse."