Drawn To You by Lily Summers Read Free Book Online Page B

but I cut him off.
    “No, I’m good from here. Thanks for inviting me to your fancy party and walking me home when I wasn’t cool enough to hang.” I mean for the last part to come out as a joke, but once I say it out loud, it makes me sound pathetic. Good job, self.
    I tuck a curl behind my ear and before he can respond, add, “Um. Right. Bye.”
    Smooth as sandpaper. I should get out before I make an even bigger ass of myself.
    As I turn to leave, he catches my elbow.
    He’s so close. Close enough that I can see the mist on his eyelashes.
    He has such nice eyelashes.
    “I’m really glad I got the chance to hang out with you tonight,” he says. “It’s nice to be around someone so honest, someone who really understands art.”
    I swallow. “That’s me. Art-understander.”
    His smile is soft as he leans in even closer. The night feels like it’s closing in around us, like the cars and the pedestrians and ever-looming rain clouds have melted away, so it’s just me and Ezra, suspended in perfect privacy, with no audience but the stars. I should move. I should leave. I don’t. My eyes lower to his mouth, which is parted and inviting.
    “By the way, you are definitely cool enough to hang,” he says, his breath warming my lips.
    He closes the distance between us, and then he’s kissing me, and it’s good. His lips are soft, but demanding. He tastes like rain and peppermint. His hand is on my jaw and he moves his thumb with gentle brushstrokes. My blood’s thrumming beneath my skin and making every touch more sensitive than the last. Something inside me opens up, the rusty hinges of my heart creaking as its shutters unfold.
    I slam them shut and break away.
    Ezra looks slightly stunned at the space between us. I lower my eyes.
    “I have to get home,” I say. Weakly. Pathetically.
    Before he can react, I turn away and move as quickly as I can without running. I need to get to my apartment right now. A panicky feeling rises in my chest.
    When I finally get home, I lock the front door behind me, pressing my back against it and sinking down to the floor. A thousand birds are beating their wings against my ribcage and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to force my pounding heart calm. This isn’t supposed to happen. Not here.
    I’m not supposed to let anyone in.
    Audrey doesn’t come home until hours later. She doesn’t realize I’m still awake. I can hear her sneaking across the foyer from my room.
    A new drawing of Iris lies on the floor next to my bed. Her eyes are full of regret.

6
Before
    I ris would hate this funeral .
    She would be sitting beside me clicking her tongue, snarking under her breath about fake friends who say empty words about how much the dearly departed will be missed when they haven’t even liked one of her Facebook posts in three years. The flowers are terrible. Who decided white lilies were the funeral flower? Bored, bored, bored, she’d say. Bring me purple peonies.
    And I would. I would have brought her any flower she asked for. All she had to do was stay alive.
    My eyes are dry as I let my gaze linger on the white casket. The pastor is droning on about the Kingdom of Heaven and all I can think about is the way they dressed her like a little girl going to Sunday school. She’d never stand to be caught in that white eyelet lace dress with the matching headband, and now it’s the last thing she’ll ever wear.
    I peer down the pew at Mom and Dad. They picked the dress, the casket, the flowers. So much white. In their eyes, she’s still their baby girl, innocent as the day she was born. If only they knew about our late-night Skype sessions, giggling under our covers about things that would have made them blush.
    Dad looks like he hasn’t slept in a week, which is probably pretty close to true. Mom looks like a shop mannequin. The light’s left her eyes.
    I wonder what I look like.
    I wonder if I look hollow.
    My mind wanders back to the moments before we filed into these pews to