Leah Mitchell isn't the same shy, poor girl anymore. Now a college student, she is enjoying her life in the city and the freedom she longed for. She works hard and knows her worth. She has it all, but her heart aches for the only person from her pas...
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Step into the fire of self-discovery. This fire will not burn you, it will only burn what you are not.
Mooji
"I'm gonna tell her how I feel."
Mac takes a drag of his cigarette and glances at me. I smirk, and the fucker gives me the finger.
"Do you think she likes me too?" Mackenzie's tone is layered with anguish. This time, I decide to put him out of his misery.
"It's Annie. You've known each other forever."
"That doesn't mean shit."
"Wrong. She knows you've never gotten your dick wet. She knows you smoke. She knows you like Fight Club, and she knows you would fight for her. She knows you, Mac. She's been there for you through all the shit. Of course, Annie will agree to be your girl."
Mac blushes. He doesn't do it often, and the sight makes me snigger.
"I'm asking her out tonight, then. Wish me luck."
I bite back a grin. "You don't need it."
We are silent for a while, smoking as we stare at the lake in front of us. School is over till September. The evening is warm. Life feels good.
Mackenzie's eyes cling to mine. "If she says yes and we start dating, I will give her a promise ring in four years."
"Why four?"
Mac inhales another lungful of smoke and shrugs. "She will be eighteen. Remember this — on her graduation night at the Temple. You will be there with me, making sure I don't lose my shit. Promise?"
Mackenzie's eyes swirl with emotion, and blush bursts on his cheeks again.
"Promise," I say, putting my hand on Mac's shoulder.
I might not understand how he feels. I've never been in love, after all. I'm pretty sure that shit isn't for me. But Mackenzie is my best friend, and I will support him and his decisions no matter what.
***
I toss over and beat at my pillow. It's wet, and I hate it. My eyes rove over my bedroom at Jim's, and tears spring from them again.
I need a smoke or a drink. Probably both; whatever to calm down my wayward thoughts. Whatever to stop thinking about Leah and the night we spent together in this very room, loving each other.
My brother had to leave, but I know he will be home soon. He's treating me as if I were a fragile recipient about to break. Or a damn baby. Or someone suicidal.
The third option is more likely. Jim hid every sharp object he had at his condo. I saw him pack knives and razors into a bag and take it somewhere. He also got rid of the meds he had.
