Find Me Alastar

“Are you still feeling unwell?” I hold my breath as I wait for her answer.

She hesitates. “I was never sick, Alastar. I needed an excuse to leave the party.”

My heart drops. “Why?”

“Because I didn’t want to see you.”

I stay silent, her rejection cutting through me like a knife.

“I see,” I whisper quietly.

More silence.

“I should let you go,” I murmur.

She hesitates. “Is there something you wanted to say, Alastar?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I reply softly.

I know what I want to say. I also know I shouldn’t.

“Goodbye, Emmaline.”

The phone goes dead.

I blow out a steadying breath and place my hands on my head in disappointment as I continue to

pace.

Emerson

I sit at the kitchen table and drink my tea. It’s 6am and I have hardly slept. I feel like shit, to be honest.

When I got home last night I vented to poor Brielle for an hour over the phone about the Irish Fiasco.

Then, after a string of violent strobe lights flashing in my eyes, I finally fell asleep, only to be woken up

when Alastar rang me. I haven’t been able to fall back to sleep since. God, I wanted to see him last night.

I would have given anything to hear him ask to see me-to give me an explanation-to heal my poor,

broken heart. I keep seeing him sitting at the table at the fundraiser so unaffected and so damn freaking

gorgeous.

Vanessa comes out of her room in a rush. “Crap, I slept in.”

I frown. “Where are you going at his hour?”

“I’m filling in for a breakfast shift for someone.”

“What time were you supposed to be there?”Exclusive content © by Nô(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.

She looks at her watch. “Now.”

She rushes around and grabs her bag, taking her phone from her charger and opening the front door in

a rush. “See you,” she calls. “Fucking hell!” she yells.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I hear the Irish accent say.

I frown.

“What the heck are you doing?” she snaps. “I nearly tripped over you.”

“I’m sorry. My apologies,” I hear him say as he disappears down the steps.

I stand and rush to the door.

“That weird guy was just asleep on our doorstop.”

“W-who?” I stammer, wide-eyed.

“That Irish knob.” I lean over the stair rail and, sure enough, see Alastar running down the stairs in

double time to escape.

What the fuck?

I take off after him. “Alastar?” I call as I run down the stairs.

He doesn’t stop as he disappears down the staircase.

“Alastar!” I call again. He keeps going and I run faster down the stairs. What the hell was he doing

here?

I hear the front door open and I run down the bottom two flights and burst out into the cool morning air

after him. The sun is just rising and it’s freezing with morning dew blanketing the streets. I look up and

down the street and see him walking away, still in his suit from last night. Fog is steaming in front of his

mouth as he breathes.

“Alastar!” I call. “Stop… Please, stop.”

He freezes and stays facing away from me, his hands in his pockets and his head bowed.

I run up behind him on the street. “What are you doing?” I call.

He turns to face me, but he doesn’t say anything.

I stop and put my hands onto my hips as I try to catch my breath. Holy shit, I am so unfit. I pant like I

am about to have a heart attack.

My eyes search his. “You slept outside my apartment?”

He nods once.

I frown. “Why?”

He hesitates and swallows the lump in his throat. “Because… I miss you.”