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Left On The Highway: Too Late, Ex-Lover

Chapter 4 

Word Count: 1198    |    Released on: Today at 14:50

ke's

we reached the resort town of

I could shower and deal with my bleeding feet. Instead, he

ok," Easton announced, hunting for street parkin

he back seat. "My feet are bleeding and I haven't eaten a prope

without turning around. "Don't kill the vibe. Grab s

when my feet feel like t

w spot, cut the engine, and

. Not a flicker o

. "If you don't want to come, we'll get food and you can go sit on a bench. Bu

nd, he pushed his do

ut right after, racing each

's a bit tall," Avery said sweetly,

it, hopping daintily o

ers a perfunctory tug, and haule

p," he m

ance, Kenzie called out from

e carnival stalls! Th

antly and jogged toward her

slipped on th

d slammed my knee ha

olt of pain s

a metal lamppost, fightin

looked back to see whether I ha

m into the noisy,

the air was a heavy blend of fried d

wooden stall beneath a sign: "Hand-P

quealed, clapping her hands. "Can we

nts." Hiram had his walle

eters away, and came right over with a s

with me! It'll be so fun

me down onto the round wooden stoo

ou first!" K

e paint, Kenzie."

on my shoulders, shoving m

he murmured near my ear. "Loose

eon-pink hair. She looked between u

hind me, exchanging a knowing look

t's a big surprise!" Ke

ded in a crowded tourist street, with no

forehead, my cheeks, the tip of my nos

y's poorly suppress

hroat repeatedly, c

t announced, holding

and looked at mys

was a grotesque, ex

scarlet triangles on both cheeks, and a hug

te about it. Nothing

rate, thoroug

th laughter and snapping

shoulders shaking wit

ke! You're a natur

wn hard on the wooden co

this?" I demanded, star

t the corner of Easton

Don't be so sensitive.

. "I'm twenty-four years old. No

ile vanished into an irritated scowl. "We spent ten dolla

tist turned

tle butterfly on Kenzie's left temple, shimmering blue

ed like a festival sprite stra

Kenzie," Easton murmu

bill from his pocket an

change," E

e receipt left

utterfly: "Premium

on my face: "Quic

ad even budgeted, to the penny, exac

we headed for the

ns dampened at the pretzel stand next do

amped violent

ef burgers!" Avery called out, poi

ing a hand to my abdomen. "Can we get somethin

g the long line without so much as a glance at

aving stomach

e said flatly. "Nob

bit Kenzie like moons. The mountain wind was picking up, sharp wit

out m

y, 6:00 a.m.-and my flight to London

Saturda

slow breath, stead

y hour

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Left On The Highway: Too Late, Ex-Lover
Left On The Highway: Too Late, Ex-Lover
“I Waited Three Hours in Line for Them; They Couldn't Wait Three Minutes for Me In a hundred-and-four-degree heat, I stood in line for three hours just because my boyfriend's new coworker Kenzie wanted reservations for the observation deck. Sweat glued my shirt to my back; my lips cracked from dehydration. When I finally inched up to the window, I texted the group chat: "Almost done." No one replied. I turned around-the parking lot was empty. The sun beat straight down as I stared at the blank chat window, waiting. Then my boyfriend Easton texted: "You took too long. Kenzie doesn't feel like going anymore. We're resting at the gas station convenience store three miles out. Walk over yourself." My own brother didn't stop them. Neither did my childhood friend. In thin canvas shoes, I walked the whole three miles, my heels bleeding until the white canvas soaked dark red. The next day, ignoring my injuries, they insisted on a mountain hike. That night I ran a 103.5-degree fever and begged for help in the group chat. My brother replied: "Take some Tylenol. We're all asleep." My boyfriend twisted the knife: "Stop texting. You'll wake Kenzie." That second, I woke up. I had already accepted the full scholarship from Imperial College London-the offer I'd been sitting on for six months. There was nothing left to decide. At 5:30 in the morning, I threw those blood-soaked canvas shoes into the metal trash can, called a taxi, and headed straight for the airport. At the departure gate, I dialed Easton, my voice calm without a trace of a tremble: "We're done."”