Pull (Seaside 2)

Alyssa closed her eyes and then tilted her head back. I kissed her exposed neck. She gasped. My fingers bunched her shirt as I started to lift it.

Someone cleared his throat.

She pushed me away.

I wanted to kill whoever just interrupted us. I turned slowly and came face to face with Bob. Yeah, I’d lose in a fight with him.

He lifted an eyebrow and peered at both of us while crossing his arms. Why did I suddenly feel like I just got caught doing something wrong? I mumbled a curse and stepped around him, grabbing Alyssa’s hand in the process.

Bob’s chuckle followed us into the living room. It irritated the hell out of me. My body was hot and cold all at once. I just wanted to be with Alyssa, not lead the stupid group or have to worry about all the paparazzi outside.

“Look…” I took a deep breath and sat down. Everyone was drinking soda and munching on popcorn. “I had no idea about this whole reality show thing. Just so we’re clear. We can still meet, but I think it might be smart for us to start meeting at someone else’s house, considering the circumstances.”

“We can meet at mine,” Alyssa piped up and winked.

Man, I loved her.

What the hell?

I felt my mouth drop open at the realization. No. No way.

No way did I just say that in my head. I ran my fingers through my hair and cleared my throat. “Um, okay. Thanks, Alyssa. That’s really cool of you.” Deep breaths, Demetri, deep breaths. “So today I want to talk about regret.”

Mrs. Murray had reminded me in our last counseling session that it was important for people to voice something they regretted not doing or saying to the person they lost. It had taken me three months to finally go through with the process of writing my ex- girlfriend a letter. I bawled for days and ate more taffy than I cared to admit.

“What do you mean?” Aaron asked, grabbing a piece of paper and pencil.

I hated opening up, but it seemed like the only way to get them to understand things was to use myself as a guinea pig. Great.

Hopefully, I don’t cry like a girl. “I lost my dad when I was little.

He had cancer. But we knew he was sick. I have to admit I suck around sick people. I think I’m traumatized from being around the hospital so much, but the point is we knew it was coming. We knew he was terminally ill. Therefore, my brother and I were able to say goodbye, we were able to have no regrets with him.” I blew out a shaky breath and continued. “I mean, I still regret that he didn’t get to see my brother and me grow up, but that was beyond my control. My dad didn’t get stolen from me. I didn’t wake up one day to find him missing from my life. When you go through the type of grief where a person is suddenly ripped away from you, it feels like a part of your soul is missing. You look back and wonder what you could have said or done, did they know how you felt?

Were they aware that you cared for them? Did you just get into a fight? Those are the type of regrets I’m talking about. I know this sounds like a lot of psychological bullshit, but Mrs. Murray’s awesome at this stuff, and I know it really helped me.”

“It helped you?” Aaron narrowed his eyes. I shifted in my seat.

Holly patted him on the hand and nodded. “I like it. Come on, Aaron. Let’s go over and sit in the corner and decide what we’re going to write.”

Soon everyone was dispersed around the room. Everyone, but Alyssa.

“Are you okay?” I tapped her on the leg with a pencil. I wanted to hold her, but she suddenly looked like the last thing she wanted was for anyone to touch her.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” she whispered under her breath.

I shrugged. “Just try. I’m going to go over there.” I pointed to the kitchen. “Far, far away, so you can have your privacy, okay?

Just write what’s on your heart.”

She nodded and I walked off feeling like crap. I hated that bastard, and I hated myself for hating him. I hated her for loving him, but most of all I hated the connection I knew they still shared.

Chapter Twenty-three

Alyssa

The sheet of paper was blank. I know Demetri was trying to give me my space so I could write my letter. But I honestly had so many regrets with Brady, I didn’t even know where to start. It felt like my heart was going to explode the minute Demetri mentioned the word regret. It was like he could see right through me when his gaze met mine.

I was too ashamed to look at him.

I knew there was still this invisible chord that held my soul connected to Brady’s, even though he wasn’t here. I may as well have a sign plastered across my face that said, “A part of me still loves my ex-boyfriend and always will.”

Demetri took those feelings away, and yes I knew I needed to heal, to move away from the past, but the minute he said regret I was tempted to jump back into old habits, because my biggest regret thus far, the one that still kept me up at night, was the very thing I’d never voiced to anyone before.

My hand shook as I clenched the pencil between my fingers.

My knuckles turned white from the pressure. Sighing, I wrote one word. And in that one word every regret fit beneath.

Living.

I regretted living. Every damn day.

Staring at the word made me nauseous. All the memories flooded back — his smile, his laugh, his cocky attitude. Everything was so real in my mind, it was almost as if he was there with me on the couch. He should have been there. Suddenly angry, I wrote another word on my paper.

Hate.

I hated that he was taken from me when he was so young. I hated that I was forced to live with this grief. I hated that the only person I could blame was myself, but that even then I knew accidents happened.