1642734778_punk-57-pdf

People come up in the line and veer around us, continuing down to the
cashier. I want to push away from him, but I can feel eyes on us already,
and I don’t want to make a scene. Maybe I’m being paranoid, but I know
better. Lyla is taking note of everything I do.
“You’re in the music.” His low voice falls across my ear. “You’ve made
me strong. I won’t do anything with my life if you’re not there. I’m sorry. I
never meant for any of this—”
“You broke my heart,” I cut him off, turning around and looking up into
his eyes. “I look at you, and I don’t see Misha.” Sadness burns my eyes, and
I don’t care if he can see. “All the years, all the letters, it’s getting further
from my memory now. Like Friday night clouded everything.”
His stare narrows.
“You tainted it all,” I tell him. “All the history. And soon, I’ll barely
remember you or how we used to be friends.”
I leave my food and push his arm away, walking over to where Ten sits.
I don’t know if everything I said to Misha right then was true, but my
head is in a constant fog. My feelings are clouded, and maybe I just need a
long nap, a long swim, or a long drive to clear my head.
All I do know is that I can’t look at him. Hell, I don’t even think I can
look at myself right now.
I sit down at the table and snatch one of Ten’s fries, nibbling just so I
can do something.
“What about your parents?” J.D. asks Trey, obviously in the middle of a
conversation.
“It’s better to ask forgiveness than permission, right?”
“What are you guys talking about?” I ask.
Trey looks at me, and I can feel the chill in his body language. “I’m
having a party, remember?” His tone is clipped. “My parents are out of