One Moment More by S. J. Evans (best e reader for android TXT) 📕

to look for us and we could do whatever we pleased. Oh man. Not attractive.      

      “You’re right,” a sugar-coated voice spoke up, snapping me out of my shameful little thoughts, “she wouldn’t. Especially not in the middle of a date.”  

      Spinning on my heel, I regarded the lucky girl who had captured the attention of the charming young suitor standing behind me, at this very place two months earlier: Kiara—or as she preferred everyone called her, Kiki—Jackson, the feisty red-head of our “possie” with a knack for accepting even the craziest of dares and flirting with complete strangers, no matter how attractive or otherwise. Just like she’d done to win the affections of the boy who now held her heart.

      Jules Rane—the swoon-worthy boy who was still standing way too close for my own good—crushed the petite girl into his arms, mumbling, “I would never do that to you, sunshine.” Then, before I even had time to process what was going on, he lifted her up and spun her around in circles (thankfully they’d moved far enough away so I wasn’t pummeled to the ground), and their lips met, feverishly.

      Pierced with an uninvited stab of something worse than jealousy—the growing pains of a memory I had no interest in remembering—I turned away, chewing on my lip, the previous happiness I’d felt the moment before, built up from a couple hours of finally letting go for once, gone. Vanished. All because of one stupid, pathetic memory of a boy with icy blue eyes and the most breathtaking smile I’d ever laid eyes on.

      The same boy I couldn’t forget, couldn’t let go . . . no matter how desperately I wanted to.

      No matter how easily he obviously had. 

       "You okay, Reina?" 

    Blinking back the hot tears that threatened to wreak havoc down my cheeks, spreading a dangerous fire that would surely fail to die out once started, I slowly turned back to my friends, my arms crossed over my chest. “Yeah, of course,” I mumbled, forcing a smile and trying to keep my tone even. “I’m just a little flighty tonight, that’s all. Don’t worry about me.”

       Jules, who’s intoxicating smile was almost as contagious as Bailee’s, nodded, willing to let the subject slide. But Kiki, on the other hand, being the brilliant snoop she was (and well aware of what happened last summer), could tell something was up, and frowned at me, her cheeks, flushed from her activity with Jules, darkening a shade. She knew.

       “Hey, baby,”—she glanced up at her boyfriend’s radiant face, flashing him the kind of smile that had yet to let her down when it came to guys—“would you mind getting me another diet Root Beer from the bar? And maybe a Shirley Temple for Reina, too, while you’re at it? I promise I’ll pay you back.”

       He grinned—the kind of naughty, mischievous grin that could only mean one thing. “I don’t want your money.”

     With a radiance of suggestion I could never even dream of pulling off, she grinned—just as naughtily—and whispered, “I know.”

       He kissed the top of her head, his hands cupped around her face, and I felt that unwanted pang again, this time at the heart. Then, with a small wave of his hand, he told us he’d be right back and slipped past a few crowds to the other side of the club, where the bar and bathrooms were, along with the DJ who hadn’t stopped entertaining the increasingly sex-driven dancers on the floor.

     “What’s wrong?” Kiki asked, pulling me into a corner so that no stragglers could eavesdrop. “Does it have to do with Gavin?”

      My stomach churned at the sound of his name. No. No, no, no, I thought, as toxic pangs of regret and pain and longing coursed throughout my entire body, eclipsing every last nerve. I gasped when a new memory hit me, all at once, so strongly, so bitterly, I had to reach my hand out towards the wall to steady myself. My lungs felt hollow; my pulse raced in my throat. I gulped air but couldn’t even concentrate enough on one thing to know if it was doing any good. All I saw, all I felt, was that one memory, as if I’d gone back in time and lived it all over again. Piercing me deeper than any physical pain ever could.

      It was three weeks before school started, last summer. The air was crisp and warm, perfect weather for a biking run down to the community park, where I often went to feed ducks in the pond and clear my head. As I peddled my bike down one of the sidewalks, my white-blonde hair blowing in the breeze, the sun’s rays beamed down upon my bare shoulders, warming my skin with a flourish. It was the first sunny day in days and I was determined to make the most of it.

      When I arrived at the pond, my bag filled with small bits of food for the little ducklings, I noticed I wasn’t the only one with a heart for the creatures. Gavin Monroe, my next-door-neighbor-turned-more-than-friend, had his hands full of food. I smiled as he threw a couple pieces of bread at the ducks that gathered around him, my insides enriched with a new, foreign wave of warmth that had very little to do with the weather and everything to do with the tall, breathtaking boy who stood before me.

      The same boy I’d been fawning over ever since the first day he noticed me in freshman year, five months after he’d moved into the house next door.

      “Hey, stranger,” I said, coming up to stand beside him, as I pulled the bag from my shoulder and reached in to pull out a few small bits of bread. “Taking a moment to enjoy nature for what it is, huh?”

     He smiled, but only briefly, and I couldn’t help but wonder if something was up. After all, he’d always been the guy I could count on having a smile for me when I needed one. “Hey, Reina,” he said softly, his voice a bit straggled. That was all the confirmation I needed: something was wrong. And then he said it, said the one sentence I had never wanted to hear him say to me. “We need to talk.”

      That was the day he left me behind, left everything we had ever worked for in the dust, never once coming back to look for it. To look for me.

      When I came back to reality, Kiki was shaking me, her small, bony fingers pinching the skin of my cool, bare shoulders. “Reina, talk to me! You look like you’re going to pass out! What’s going on?”

      Blinking away the haze from the nightmare-like memory, I tried to calm the racing of my heart and caving in of my lungs. Breathe, I told myself, gulping air, just breathe. Water trickled down my cheeks and I quickly wiped it away, sick of the tears, sick of the pain. Sick of feeling weak all the time, all because of one stupid, selfish boy who'd stolen my heart and then up and left, never making an effort to contact me again. 

      "Nothing," I tried to convince her, swallowing the lump in my throat. "I just -- I didn't sleep well last night. I'm a little tired." 

     She saw right through my lies; we both knew what was really going on, of that much was I certain. And yet, instead of pressuring me to spill the beans and admit the shameful truth, she merely pulled me into a hug and said, "Good. Because you had me worried for a moment there." 

     In her arms, I could feel my anxiety slowly being drowned out, replaced by a new wave of peace. The kind of peace that could only come from the familiar comfort of friendly faces and embraces. "Nothing to worry about," I mumbled around a small smile, even though my heart wasn't in it quite yet. When she pulled away, her pink lips spread into a reassuring smile, big, brown eyes alight with sympathy, I crossed my arms over my chest, almost as if it could deflect any other unwanted attacks at my spirit.

       "Well," she said, smoothing out invisible wrinkles in her strapless, salmon pink tutu dress, "now that that's covered, what do you say we go join Landon and Lila at the pool tables? Something tells me that they'll be needing our help."

      "Sounds good to me," I said, and took a deep, much needed breath as we began making our way to the game room. "But what about Jules? Will he know where to look for us?" 

      Kiki grinned wickedly, flashing impeccably white teeth. "He'll figure it out eventually."

"You have got to be kidding me," Lila snapped at Landon, nearly an hour later, after two games of pool that marked their score one-to-one. "I am not playing strip pool. No. Flipping. Way." She crossed her arms over her chest, giving him the look. "Go find someone else desperate enough to play your stupid games." 

      Landon, who was leaning against the table, pool stick in hand, chuckled, shook his head. "Why not, Li? Too scared you won't be able to handle seeing me naked?"

       She glared at him. "You're sick."

      "Oh come on," he cooed, taking a step closer to her, a cocky smile spread across his face, "you know you love it when I talk dirty to you."

      "Ew, gross," she shrieked, scrunching up her nose in disgust as she scurried over to stand next to me, by the miniature bar where I'd found a stool and "popped a squat", as my mother would say. "Get over yourself, Lan." 

     In a lame attempt at covering up the laughter that tumbled from my lips at their ridiculous argument -- not to mention the fact that, from across the room, on the opposite wall to us, I could see Kiki and Jules making out aggressively against the wall, like hungry animals at feeding time -- I brought my glass filled with a Shirley Temple to my lips and took a small sip. Their argument continued, getting increasingly more heated with the more crude the suggestive comments Landon made towards Lila were, while he wiggled his brows and winked at her, and she easily fired back at all his remarks.

     That was when I decided it would be best to just stay out of it. I had no interest in mingling with their affairs, especially when I wasn't exactly comfortable with where they were headed. So I didn't. 

       Hopping off the stool, I set my glass down and slid a ten dollar bill across the counter of the bar, before slipping into the crowd gathered around the entrance of the room, my friends oblivious to my departure, and searching for someplace I could go to clear my head. After spending hours in the humidity of the club, I was ready for a little space. In fact -- after the night I'd had so far -- I pretty much needed it. 

    But because I hadn't been paying close attention to where I was headed, I crashed into something--or, more accurately put, someone--hard, and put a damper on my quick escape plans. A straggled gasp leapt out of my throat as the air was knocked out of my lungs, knocking me off balance. Before I could fall to the ground or commit another equally embarrassing act that showcased my pathetic clumsiness, though, large, warm hands grasped onto my arms, holding me in place. My heart rate picked up, my vision going blurry as I submerged into a dizzy spell, but I tried to keep as calm as possible. 

       Then, I heard an achingly familiar voice pulling me out of my daze, asking me if I was all right. Without thought, my gaze