Stand-In Heiress's Last Sunflower Blooms in Graveyards - Chapter 6: Chapter 6
You are reading Stand-In Heiress's Last Sunflower Blooms in Graveyards, Chapter 6: Chapter 6. Read more chapters of Stand-In Heiress's Last Sunflower Blooms in Graveyards.
Times Square on New Year's Eve—snow coming down in fat, wet flakes, but the place was still absolutely mobbed.
The massive billboard overhead counted down the minutes to midnight.
Rachel and I squeezed through the crowd, practically attached at the hip to keep from getting separated.
In the center of the intersection, a cop stood directing the chaos, solid as a statue while thousands of people flowed around him.
Watching him triggered a memory that hit me like a freight train.
I grabbed Rachel's arm, forcing my voice to sound light: "Hey, do you remember senior year? Timothy volunteered here for New Year's."
"He was so paranoid about me showing up and causing a scene that he didn't tell me where he'd be working. I spent the entire fucking night combing every inch of this place looking for him."
Rachel frowned: "Vaguely. Did you ever find him?"
A bitter laugh escaped my throat: "Not even close."
"I was wandering around just like this—completely crushed, letting the crowd push me wherever. Then out of nowhere, Timothy appears behind me and grabs my hood!"
"He looked so pissed off and goes, 'Skylar Madden, I've been standing right in front of your face for two hours and you've walked past me four times. Were you planning to just wander around Manhattan all night?'"
I pointed to where the cop was stationed now, that exact same spot.
"Timothy had been standing right there the whole time—literally the most obvious place in the entire square. But it never occurred to my stupid eighteen-year-old brain that he'd actually *wanted* me to find him, so he'd picked the one spot I couldn't possibly miss."
Rachel studied my face.
My eyes were too bright, like I'd mainlined pure joy and heartbreak at the same time.
She couldn't figure out why every word felt like a knife when I wasn't even crying.
Suddenly, Rachel yanked me to a stop.
"Skylar." Her voice was dead serious. "You have to tell Timothy the truth."
"Tell him about the cancer. Tell him your family forced you to leave. Tell him you didn't break up with him because he was poor—you did it to protect him."
"And then what?"
My smile felt like shattered glass.
"He feels sorry for me? I manipulate him into forgiving me? We pretend the last five years never happened and live happily ever after?"
I shook my head violently: "Rachel, no. I won't do that to him. That's not love—that's emotional blackmail."
"I promised him we'd act like strangers. I need to keep that prom—"
The crowd exploded into cheers, completely drowning me out.
The countdown had started.
When midnight hit, thousands of balloons shot into the sky like colorful bullets.
Red, gold, silver—like someone had detonated a rainbow against the black winter sky.
I released my balloon and tilted my head back to watch the fireworks paint the night in brilliant colors.
*Do the stars get to see this?* I wondered. *When I'm up there with them, will I still care about New Year's Eve?*
Just as I was getting lost in that morbid thought, Rachel's hands clamped over my eyes.
"Don't look at the jumbotron," she said urgently.
But I was already peeking through her fingers.
The camera had found its money shot—the perfect New Year's kiss.
Across the square, Timothy had Katherine wrapped in his coat like she was made of spun glass. One hand cradled her face while he kissed her with the kind of desperate tenderness that used to be mine.
He looked at her like she hung the fucking moon.
Fifty thousand people were cheering for their fairy-tale romance.
I felt my face arrange itself into what probably looked like a smile, and then something warm and metallic filled my mouth.
The world tilted sideways. It felt like I was dissolving, like my body was made of snow and I was finally melting.
Sound became muffled and far away. The falling snow turned my vision white around the edges, then completely white.
From somewhere that felt like another planet, I heard Rachel's voice getting smaller and smaller:
"Skylar! NO, SKYLAR!"
The massive billboard overhead counted down the minutes to midnight.
Rachel and I squeezed through the crowd, practically attached at the hip to keep from getting separated.
In the center of the intersection, a cop stood directing the chaos, solid as a statue while thousands of people flowed around him.
Watching him triggered a memory that hit me like a freight train.
I grabbed Rachel's arm, forcing my voice to sound light: "Hey, do you remember senior year? Timothy volunteered here for New Year's."
"He was so paranoid about me showing up and causing a scene that he didn't tell me where he'd be working. I spent the entire fucking night combing every inch of this place looking for him."
Rachel frowned: "Vaguely. Did you ever find him?"
A bitter laugh escaped my throat: "Not even close."
"I was wandering around just like this—completely crushed, letting the crowd push me wherever. Then out of nowhere, Timothy appears behind me and grabs my hood!"
"He looked so pissed off and goes, 'Skylar Madden, I've been standing right in front of your face for two hours and you've walked past me four times. Were you planning to just wander around Manhattan all night?'"
I pointed to where the cop was stationed now, that exact same spot.
"Timothy had been standing right there the whole time—literally the most obvious place in the entire square. But it never occurred to my stupid eighteen-year-old brain that he'd actually *wanted* me to find him, so he'd picked the one spot I couldn't possibly miss."
Rachel studied my face.
My eyes were too bright, like I'd mainlined pure joy and heartbreak at the same time.
She couldn't figure out why every word felt like a knife when I wasn't even crying.
Suddenly, Rachel yanked me to a stop.
"Skylar." Her voice was dead serious. "You have to tell Timothy the truth."
"Tell him about the cancer. Tell him your family forced you to leave. Tell him you didn't break up with him because he was poor—you did it to protect him."
"And then what?"
My smile felt like shattered glass.
"He feels sorry for me? I manipulate him into forgiving me? We pretend the last five years never happened and live happily ever after?"
I shook my head violently: "Rachel, no. I won't do that to him. That's not love—that's emotional blackmail."
"I promised him we'd act like strangers. I need to keep that prom—"
The crowd exploded into cheers, completely drowning me out.
The countdown had started.
When midnight hit, thousands of balloons shot into the sky like colorful bullets.
Red, gold, silver—like someone had detonated a rainbow against the black winter sky.
I released my balloon and tilted my head back to watch the fireworks paint the night in brilliant colors.
*Do the stars get to see this?* I wondered. *When I'm up there with them, will I still care about New Year's Eve?*
Just as I was getting lost in that morbid thought, Rachel's hands clamped over my eyes.
"Don't look at the jumbotron," she said urgently.
But I was already peeking through her fingers.
The camera had found its money shot—the perfect New Year's kiss.
Across the square, Timothy had Katherine wrapped in his coat like she was made of spun glass. One hand cradled her face while he kissed her with the kind of desperate tenderness that used to be mine.
He looked at her like she hung the fucking moon.
Fifty thousand people were cheering for their fairy-tale romance.
I felt my face arrange itself into what probably looked like a smile, and then something warm and metallic filled my mouth.
The world tilted sideways. It felt like I was dissolving, like my body was made of snow and I was finally melting.
Sound became muffled and far away. The falling snow turned my vision white around the edges, then completely white.
From somewhere that felt like another planet, I heard Rachel's voice getting smaller and smaller:
"Skylar! NO, SKYLAR!"
End of Stand-In Heiress's Last Sunflower Blooms in Graveyards Chapter 6. Continue reading Chapter 7 or return to Stand-In Heiress's Last Sunflower Blooms in Graveyards book page.