The Girl At The Last

Chapter 71

Elaine

"I can't do this anymore"

"Do what?"

"This pretending" watching straight ahead as the road ascended by I felt the crackle of Ian's throat being cleared as he drives.

"We agreed that until cotillion you shall-"

"I can't" I almost scream in frustration "I can't lie to him anymore"

Silence. He paused for a moment probably amused by my outburst. Combine the messed up aura I had around with my damp unkept hair, old worn out maroon hoodie and an equally unkept and worn down temper and emotion.

I wait for him to say something and after a long chore of steering right and left he utters a lone syllable.

"Him?"

Now it was my turn to awkwardly gather around the terms.

I let go of my vocals a push. Sliding the fact that how similar would it have been to expose my current relationship status if dad would've been alive.

It's just Ian.

Who looks so desperate at times to jump in and pull over the role of my father. Like for instance this morning. Early Saturday morning he had called me to meet him outside.

And when I did, all wrecked and clearly distraught to glumness after what happened last night. He asked me to get in the car. And without a question I did.

Alex and I barely conversed last night. Like we both, in closure and silence fought our own thoughts off.

But the reassuring hug he gave me just before I could fall back into the sanctuary of my room was more that I could ask for.

At that moment he felt like home.

"Alex" with the certain realization of how strongly I feel for him I reel out. Without a flicker of hesitation.

Ian doesn't seem bothered or surprised.

"So you both are_?" he drawls out in question, his gaze fixed to the road.

Sighing I pull my hood lower, hugging my legs to chest as I cross my calves in 'x' not caring the way my sock clad heels pressed over the edge of Ian's fancy leather car seat.

I don't answer him. My silence signified more of my confession and commitment than my words could.

"The last time we met, you told me that Thomas was just an acquaintance" he consciously leaves the statement hanging as I provide him with the one word that represents everything a teenager wants to say but couldn't possibly. The chant of an average young youth.

"It's complicated, and it's Alex"

Crucially decrypting my answer he surprises me with another question, more like a concern.

"Does the boy treat you right?" inclining his head to look at me, he halts at the stop sign.

Scowling I throw a look of disbelief at him. The man in his tux and Bluetooth earpiece with the enigma of power suddenly a mere human who happens to hold the reins to what I should and shouldn't be saying or doing.

Someone whose words made sense. Without making sense.

"He treats me right with truth. But I can't say the same about me" huffing I run my fingers through the tangles of knotted hair.

"I know it must be really hard on you. But it's the best for everyone"

"It's easy for you to say" I grit my teeth. As he gears up the speed again. Tossing the hexagonal crystal weight I had be aimlessly playing with, back to its place.