Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 73136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
“I’ve heard the same.” She smiles. “Congrats, by the way, on your promotion.”
“Thank you, and congrats on your scholarship.” For a moment we just stare at each other, neither of us saying a word. This odd feeling overcomes me that she is taking me in, the same way, I’m taking her in, with a sense of reminiscence.
“Well, I better get going. Got to prepare for classes and stuff,” Lily says, breaking the awkward silence.
“Yes, good luck, and let me know if you need anything,” I offer, but some part of me regrets doing so. I already know that I need to stay away from Lily. I should try to avoid her at all costs. Too many feelings are stirred looking at her. Feelings I swore to bury and never dig up again. She’s trouble waiting to happen, and I’m not about to find myself in that kind of situation, least of all, with my dead girlfriend’s baby sister.
“Thanks, Sebastian… I mean, Dean Miller,” she smirks. “See you around.”
“Take care, Lily,” I call after her as she disappears from my office.
The door closes behind her, and I slump back down into my leather chair. Why does it feel like I just got hit by a bus? Motherfucker. My jaw aches with the tension inside of it. I wasn’t even aware I was clenching it.
All the walls I’ve so carefully built around me for the past ten years are suddenly cracking, leaving huge empty spaces to let light, sand, water, and most of all, feelings in.
That damn woman. Why does she have to look so much like my soulmate, the one I was supposed to be with for the rest of my life? Is this God’s way of saying fuck you? I’ve tried my hardest to be a good man. No, I haven’t been perfect, but I’ve been damn near close to it. Did he send Lily to me just to torment me?
Thrusting my fingers into my hair, I hold my head in my hands. This is crazy talk, and I need to shut the fuck up. Lily isn’t Amy. She’s not. End of story.
It takes me about thirty minutes to compose myself enough to get up and finally exit the room. The hunger I felt earlier is long forgotten. The emptiness in my stomach is now replaced with an assortment of feeling, none of them good.
I’m worried about what Lily is going to stir up inside me, how my heart is going to handle seeing my soulmate’s lookalike walking around campus. I only saw her for a few minutes, and it took me half an hour to recover from it.
Is this going to be a recurring thing? How it’s going to be every time I see her on campus? I decide that the answer is no. I can’t let her distract me like this.
Once again, I tell myself that she is not Amy.
Not Amy. She’s not Amy. I need to remember it, burn it into my fucking skull.
On the drive home, I let the words run rampant in my mind over and over again.
She is not Amy. It’s not her. Amy is gone.
The same chant replays, like a bad pop song, caught on repeat inside my head.
By the time I walk into my place, I must have said the words in my head over a hundred times, but the ache in my heart still remains. In my head, I know it’s not her, it’s Lily, her baby sister… but my body responds to her, just as it did to Amy.
To my body, there is no difference. My heart yearns for me to be near her, and it’s earth-shattering to my brain. In the ten years since Amy’s death, I’ve been with a handful of women, but none to which my body reacted like it did when I saw Lily today.
Stop this. Make the ache in your chest disappear.
Heading straight for the kitchen, I get out a bottle of whiskey and a tumbler from the cabinet. Generally, I don’t make it a habit to drink on school nights, but I don’t give a fuck right now. I have to stop this before it gets out of control.
My hands shake as I pour myself a glassful before taking it and the bottle to the living room. Settling down onto the couch, I start to sip on the amber liquid, welcoming the burn in my throat and the warmth in my stomach that it brings.
I can’t remember the last time I got drunk. I prefer to keep a clear mind, but it doesn’t matter today. Everything inside my head is fucked now, her presence ruining everything. I down the glass in two gulps and pour myself a second one right away. I can still feel her eyes on me, and my skin burns. Wrong. It’s wrong. I take another gulp.