Page 30 of Hannah.
Oh, hell. I’m torn between what I should and want to do. The scent of Astrid's perfume, the warmth of her touch—it's all there. But beneath it all, there's a gnawing ache, a void left by Hannah's rejection.
My heart screams for me to be honest, tell Astrid the truth, and spare her from being a temporary refuge for my bruised ego. Yet, the sting of Hannah's rejection is too fresh, too raw. I can't summon the strength to hurt someone else when I’m already wounded. The softness of her body and the comfort of her touch is too difficult to resist.
With a heavy sigh, I brush my fingers against her cheek, a silent acknowledgment of the affection I genuinely hold for her. It might not be love, and she might not be Hannah, but…we have something. There’s no reason it can’t continue.
“Fine, if that’s truly what you want.” My voice’s barely audible, my own words sounding like a betrayal to my heart. “Let's enjoy the evening together, then.”
Despite the hollowness in my chest, I decide to immerse myself in her. Cupping her face, I give in, kissing her soundly and trying to turn my brain off. Astrid, oblivious to my internal struggle, clings to me.
I press on, pretending, for her sake and perhaps for mine too, that everything is alright, that I’m not nursing a shattered heart, and that I can be content in her arms.
10
Hannah
When the chillstarts to bite at us, we all head inside to the warmth of the house. I follow the group into the large, lavish living room, looking for Astrid the entire way. Is she still upstairs in her room? And Johan? Did he leave the estate altogether? It’s not like I’m alone, though. Conrad stands beside me, clearly taken by my presence. It’s flattering, but his timing is simply terrible. I’ve never been less interested in a man romantically than I am with Conrad right now. Not necessarily because of who he is but because Johan and the rejection I had to give him still weigh heavily on my soul.
Honestly, I hadn't anticipated the emotional rollercoaster of seeing him again, not after having already seen him at the exhibition. The shock of him and Astrid being a couple should have been gone, but each time I see them together, it’s like an electric shock across my nerves.
Then, he had the audacity to break up with her and try to make out with me on the same day under her roof! The nerve of that man! It’s been two years, but my memories of Johan haveintensified, becoming clearer in my mind each time I look at him in the here and now. Having him so close makes those feelings burst to life, making me feel like a fool and a terrible friend all at once.
He annoys the hell out of me. Yet I want him desperately.
Even as dinner is served, my eyes wander, seeking Astrid and Johan. Their absence is making my hair stand on end and my nerves jittery with anxiety. So they’re probably together, wherever they’ve gotten off to, but what the hell could they be doing? They’re either fighting or…ugh. Fighting or fucking. I don’t know, which makes me feel worse.
That is a lie. The second option makes me feel much worse, reminding me I’m a terrible person for wanting my friend’s boyfriend.
Conrad continues to try to engage with me as we take our seats to eat, but the hostess and her ex-boyfriend's absence overshadow pretty much everything else for me. My thoughts cling to my recent conversation with Johan. Logic dictates I did the right thing by sending him away, but my heart—oh, my stubborn heart—screams in protest.
I navigate polite conversations, my nods and smiles on autopilot while my mind is a battleground. Boundaries are set, and choices made, yet the magnetic pull I feel towards Johan is undeniable. It’s a tug of war between sensibility and raw desire, each side fighting for control. Right this second, he might be making up with Astrid, all because I rejected him, and any chance I had to explore what I feel for him might be forever gone.
Heads turn to the doorway as Astrid and Johan finally make their grand entrance, their hands entwined, smiles painting their faces. Astrid, who seemed burdened earlier, now radiates a bubbly, infectious joy, her earlier distress replaced by contagious happiness.
Johan looks happy, but it’s a bland sort of joy. Content––satisfied, even––but nothing infectious or joyous about it. Just plain old happy.
Conrad breaks the ice with a playful remark. “Finally! We were practically wasting away waiting for you two.” Laughter fills the room, momentarily thawing whatever awkwardness had been building in the space separating me and Johan. I giggle, too, but there is a nervous edge to it.
The couple joins the rest of us, and the dynamics shift. Astrid and Johan, now side by side, are undeniably back together from what must have been the world's shortest breakup. The realization makes me want to scream, but I keep my head down, focusing on the dinner being served and Conrad’s incessant chatter beside me. At least I have him as a social buffer, if nothing else.
Conversations ebb and flow around the table, and delicious food keeps everyone fed and entertained throughout the dinner. It all tastes like ash to me, but maybe that’s because I’m on the edge of misery.
Astrid and Johan act like there was never anything wrong between them, laughing and holding hands throughout the meal. I have to look away.
When plates are cleared and desserts are brought out, Conrad seizes the moment, raising his glass high. “To friendship,” he declares, eyes sweeping over everyone at the table as we all join him in lifting our drinks. “Which is what brought all of us together today. May we have many more evenings like this.”
The clinking of glasses resonates, and a few calls of “Here here!” ring out. I toast with Conrad, ignoring how close he wants to be to me. I drink deeply and wish there was another glass already waiting for me.
Friendship…not only did I potentially tarnish the one I have with Astrid, even if she doesn’t know it, but I’ve also pigeonholed myself into only being friends with Johan instead of more––like I want so selfishly.
My gaze involuntarily flickers towards Johan and Astrid before I force my eyes away once more. Let them be happy. At least two out of the three of us will be.
Under the canopy of stars, I’ve wrapped myself in a velour blanket and found some solace from the party still going strong inside. My fingers trace the rim of a port wine glass, the rich taste of it pleasantly decadent but too much for me to finish. Everyone is living their best college life back in the house, getting drunk on this expensive port and whatever alcohol treats they’ve snagged from Astrid’s family bar.
“Hey girly,” I hear Astrid’s voice coming from behind me and turn just enough to see her hips swishing and cheeks flushed from the alcohol. She’s still got her port glass in her hand as she settles on the outdoor bench at my side, leaning into me. “I wondered where you had disappeared.”
“I just needed to get some air,” I tell her genuinely, without elaborating.
“Yeah, me too.” She nudges at me, a small smile playing at her lips before holding up her glass. I do the same, and she clinks her glass against mine. “Cheers to a successful party and lovely friendships.”