[a/n: even to me, this is a completely unexpected update because i didn't expect i'd finish this chapter anytime soon. however, do note that there won't be a lot of #ReStin chapters from here on out (but come on, give me a break. they've been together since, like, the third chapter or something), and these last few chapters will be dedicated more on reed trying to resolve her problems and all (hence, the latter part of this chapter). rest assured, those "problems" still include austin, so ofc she'll have to face him too sooner or later. 

in the meantime, i hope you understand that it's necessary for reed to grow up before she can find a way to resolve her feelings. thus, she wouldn't be able to actually make a move on the austin situation unless all these other non-austin-related things happen. thank you and enjoy reading!

sam xo]

Chapter 28

There was no hint of surprise in the look Austin had given me as soon as I broke away.

There was only disappointment.

And somehow, that made it a hundred times worse.

My cheeks were flushed and my heart still continued to beat wildly against my ribcage as I took in the expression on his face, never once daring to look away from his eyes.

He had seen it coming. That much was obvious. He wasn't surprised when I finally placed my hands on his chest to push him away, recreating the distance that existed between us. He knew me enough to anticipate it—so why was he disappointed?

Why had he expected otherwise?

He should have known better.

I straightened, swallowing past the lump in my throat. "I have to go."

For a moment, he simply watched me. His eyes were unreadable behind the lens of his glasses and something about the stillness of his expression tugged at me, making my thoughts falter for a second before scrambling to make sure my resolve didn't sway.

Just as I was about to turn away, he let out a breath and dropped his gaze. "The sad thing is that I'm not even surprised."

He kept his tone even, almost unemotional, and already, I could see his walls shooting back up, shutting himself from me, minimizing the casualties that this moment was sure to create.

"Why did you do it then?" I asked him, feeling a sudden and irrational surge of anger well up inside me. "If you knew I'd push you away, then why did you kiss me?"

"Why did you kiss me back?"

I fell silent.

Austin pushed himself off the car, taking a step closer to me, forcing me to take one back. "I did it," he said, not once tearing his gaze from mine, "because even though I knew you were going to push me away, I also knew you were going to kiss me back."

"That's ridiculous," I scoffed, drawing my own walls up, trying to mask the fact that my own emotions seemed to be slipping past my fingers; out of reach, out of grasp, and it was all I could do to contain them all without letting them spill for him to see.

"Why did you kiss me back, Reed?" he said. His voice was quiet, but there an undercurrent thrumming beneath it. "Look me in the eye and tell me why."

He took another step closer. I swallowed, ripping my gaze from his as I placed a hand on his chest to keep him from crossing what's left of the space that separated us.

"I have to go."

I turned to leave, heading for my car. His hand shot out to grab me by the elbow. There was no force in his grip, but somehow, it was enough to make me freeze on my tracks.

"Just answer me and I'll let you go." His voice was but a murmur, but something about it nearly made my knees buckle. "Why did you kiss me back, Reed?"

With as much conviction as I could muster, I said, "I just got caught up with the moment, all right?" I gave him a defiant look, willing him to believe me. "It was a spur of the moment thing, Austin. That's all there is to it."

The lie was thin, and I knew he could see right through me. His hold on me tightened, just slightly, but just when I expected him to call me on it, his eyes hardened and he released me, taking a deliberate step back. He held my gaze for a moment, as though he was daring me to take the words back.

When I didn't, he let out a breath and turned away.

I swallowed, trying to come up with the right words to say everything that my thoughts were screaming at me, but it was clear that there was nothing left to say, so I turned away, unlocked my car and got in, afraid I'd change my mind if I didn't do leave right this very second.

Afraid I'd reach out to him.

Afraid I'd call out his name.

Afraid I'd blurt out the words he wanted to hear from me.

I gave him one last look as I started the engine, my hands trembling from the tremors in my ribcage. The sun was already rising, steadily making its way up the sky, the light silhouetting his figure.

I caught his sunken gaze, seeing, once again, the disappointment reflected in them, but I knew the best thing I could do was disappear and leave. So I put my car in reverse and pulled out of the parking lot, letting the distance between us grow.

I kissed you back, I thought to myself, for the same reason I pushed you away.

* * *

The smell of pancakes and bacon was what welcomed me when I got home. It was barely five minutes past seven, but Mom had to leave early for her shift at the hospital, so she always tried to prepare breakfast before leaving.

I slipped past the living room and peered into the kitchen, where I found Mom flipping a pancake over. She turned to me when she heard me approaching.

"Hey," she said, giving a warm smile. "Wild night?"

"You could say that," I said, crossing the kitchen to sit on the counter. I was aware of Mom watching me all the way before looking back to the empty doorway.

With raised eyebrows, she turned to me and said, "Where's Tori? Don't tell me she's too drunk to have breakfast. She's literally never too drunk when it comes to bacon and pancakes."

It was true. Just the smell would have sobered her up immediately, which was probably why Mom chose to cook this for breakfast this morning. We'd always been open to each other about things, even about the fact that Tori and I often drink when we go to parties. She wasn't strict about it as long as I told her.

"Instead of sneaking off and lying to my face, I prefer you telling me so I at least have an idea what you're up to," she once told me the first time I got caught. I eventually got used to telling her the truth, so I wasn't used to lying to her.

But now, with her asking me about Tori, I found myself saying, "She had to go home. Said there was something she forgot to take care of for when she leaves for Japan."

"Hey," she said, probably sensing the hint of sadness in my voice. "You still have the rest of summer to spend with her. Besides, you've been friends for far too long now for your friendship to end just because she's moving."

"Yeah," I told her. "I know."

"Cheer up, all right?"

I nodded, trying a smile.

What she didn't know was that Tori didn't need to move away for our friendship to fall apart, but somehow, there was no way I could tell her about it, or about anything that happened tonight, so I just let it slide.

Jumping off the counter, I said, "As much as I want to have breakfast with you, I think I could really, really use some sleep right now."

"Don't let me stop you," she said.

I walked over to her to plant a kiss on her cheek. "Thanks, Mom."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm great," I lied. "Just tired."

I was a little taller than her, but that didn't stop me from sinking into her hold when she wrapped an arm around my waist, squeezing me as if to say I'll be all right. I knew, even without her saying it, that she knew something was wrong, but she didn't call me on it and I was glad for the comfort her silence offered me.

She gave me a reassuring smile when she released me and I tried my best to return it.

I was already almost out of the kitchen when she said, "And Reed?"

I stopped midstride. "Yeah?"

"Your father called."

It was the last thing I wanted to hear after everything that's happened last night, but there was an almost pleading look on her face, so I forced myself to say, "What did he want?"

"He wanted me to tell you that he e-mailed you last week about going on a trip with him and the family," she said. "Said you probably haven't seen it yet."

The way she said it made it clear that she knew I'd seen it and that I had, in fact, not bothered to reply at all.

When I didn't say anything, she said, "You know this is a good chance for you to spend time with him before you become too busy with college, Reed."

"What's the point?" I asked her. "I don't want to 'spend time' with him just because 'he's still my father.' Neither of us should be obligated to talk to each other when it's clear that we don't really want to."

"Reed."

"I'm sorry," I said, giving her a pleading look. "I'd just... rather not subject myself to this."

I knew she was waiting for me to change my mind, but I kept my mouth shut and held her gaze until she eventually let out a sigh. "Fine."

"Will you tell him I said no?"

"I think," she said, turning to face the stove, "it's something he needs to hear from you."

"But Mom—"

"It's the least you can do, Reed. You owe him at least that much."

My eyes snapped to hers. What she said sounded eerily similar to what I told Austin about him and Mia. I bit the inside of my cheeks, fighting the urge to tell Mom that there was no way I was going to just willingly talk to Dad.

Instead, I told her, "All right."

"All right as in you promise me you'll call him?"

"As soon as I wake up."

She nodded, giving me a grateful smile. "Don't be too hard on him."

* * *

It was already half past two when I woke up.

Everything about me felt gross and icky, and if I hadn't been dead tired earlier, I probably wouldn't have been able to fall asleep with all the dirt and grime I'd gotten after everything that had happened yesterday.

It was possibly the longest night I'd ever had. It seemed nearly impossible for so many things to have happened. I lost my best friend. I dumped one of the sweetest guys on earth. I'd told a complete stranger about my dad, my thoughts on love and all the things that ever really mattered, and I had kissed said stranger and ran.

I could still feel his lips on mine; still remember the heat of the moment as we reached out to hold each other closer. The memory burned bright amidst everything that had happened last night and even as I lay in my bed, away from Austin where I thought I'd be safe and sound from all the things that I knew had the potential to hurt me, I was still scared shitless.

Yes, I'd ran away. I drove away and bolted right out of there before any real damage could be done. But to be honest? It felt like I might have left a part of me behind.

And that alone was a possibility I refused to even acknowledge.

* * *

I had already popped the pancakes and bacon in the microwave when I saw the note Mom left on the counter.

Don't forget to call your father.

It was signed with her typical Love, Mom, and I was so tempted to get a pen so I could write her a note saying that if she actually did love me, she wouldn't be subjecting me to this in the first place.

But a promise was a promise.

I took as much time as possible to finish eating, chewing slowly and taking frequent sips of water while I watched a rerun of Friends. Then I did some chores I never would have willingly done before, dusting the shelves and vacuuming the carpet until they were basically spotless. Calling Dad might be inevitable, but I figured delaying it for a bit wouldn't hurt.

And I could have probably been able to do so until who-knows-how-long, but then my phone rung when the clock struck six. I was in the middle of cleaning the windows when it did. I was tempted to ignore it, but the ringtone seemed to get louder and louder the longer I pretended not to hear it, so I eventually dropped the washcloth I was holding to pick it up.

Sure enough, it was my dad.

I took a deep breath, trying to clear my thoughts and muster the willpower to get through this conversation, before finally answering the call.

"Hi."

"Reed!" I made a face upon hearing the enthusiasm in his voice. "Glad you picked up!"

"Yeah," I mumbled. Clearing my throat, I said, "What's up?"

"How are you? I miss you, sweetheart. It's been so long I can't even remember the last time we talked."

I felt my stomach tighten. It was a month ago, I wanted to tell him, but instead I said, "I'm all right."

"Good, good."

I didn't say anything in response to this, making it a point to refrain from asking him how he was doing. The silence was loud and painfully awkward and I wanted him to see that; to see how hopeless this conversation was; to finally acknowledge the fact that we can never go back to the way we were before.

Finally after what felt like forever, he spoke.

"I, uh, talked to your mom earlier."

"So I heard."

"Did she tell you about the trip? I sent you an e-mail, but you probably haven't seen it."

"I saw it."

"That's great!" he said, suddenly lively again. "Sally is really looking forward to this. She's been planning it for ages and the kids really, really want to get to know you. I was thinking you could come here a day or two early before we leave so you can rest and spend some time—"

"I'm not going," I cut him off.

There was a pause.

This time, the silence was unbearable, but then he cleared his throat and said, "You mean you can't come early?" he asked me but I could hear the uncertainty in his voice. "That's all right too. We can—"

"I'm not going as in I'm not going to the trip at all."

"Oh."

His shock was palpable. I couldn't really blame him since I'd never truly said or done anything that revealed how I really felt towards him. It was mostly because Mom didn't want me to put more strain on our relationship, but maybe it also had something to do with the fact that I'd always pretended that his absence never bothered me.

When he cancels our dinner plans at the last minute, when he doesn't notice the fake smiles and the forced laughter, when he arrives later than we planned or even when he forgets to call me on my birthday—I'd always pretended that none of these ever bothered me.

And maybe it was time to drop the act.

"We can reschedule, if that's the problem," my father offered, but I could tell that he was beginning to grasp the gravity of my rejection. "Sally and I haven't booked the tickets yet anyway."

"That's not it."

Silence.

Then, quietly, he finally asked, "What's wrong?"

It was the question I'd been meaning to hear him say all this time. He always acted like everything was all right, unaware of everything that wasn't, and over and over I beat myself up for making a big deal out of the things he didn't even notice.

I took a deep breath and, calmly, said, "You didn't show up at my graduation."

"Is that—is that what this is about?" I heard him sigh. "Reed, honey, I already told you. Some work came up, and I couldn't just—"

"That's not the point!"

"Then what is it?"

"You could have called," I snapped.

"I did."

"Two fucking days later!"

He had the decency not to offer up an excuse so I kept going.

"You could have called to say you weren't coming," I told him, "You could have called so I didn't have to keep checking for you to show up, again and again and again but you didn't and I feel stupid because you keep getting my hopes up for nothing, over and over and over, but I never learn and it sucks."

"I wanted to be there, Reed. Trust me, I did, but—"

"It's not just that, okay?" I yelled. Then, quietly, I said, "It's not just that. It's all the times you said you'd be there, but never was. It's all the holidays you missed and the promises you broke. It's all the shitty days when I needed you, not anyone else but you, but you weren't there because you left, Dad. You left."

"It's been ten years, Reed." I could hear the exasperation in his voice and it shocked me to learn that I could picture his expression right now: eyebrows creased and mouth turned down in a confused frown. "I thought you were over that."

"Maybe you thought wrong."

"You know I can't come back, honey. Your mom and I are—"

"It's not about you coming back." I shook my head even though he couldn't see me. "No, Dad. It's about you leaving and disappearing from my life only to reappear like nothing ever happened."

"Well, what do you want me to do?"

"Disappear," I replied. "And this time, don't bother reappearing."