Chasing Castles (Finding Focus #2) by Jiffy Kate Page A

come and hang out frequently. Double standards piss me off.
    What if they think I’m some immature high schooler?
    My hands fidget as we walk up the sidewalk.
    “Nervous?” Micah asks, eyeing me before opening the door.
    “No.”
    He gives me a look, one eyebrow raised. “Don’t be nervous. I’ve met most of his friends, and they’re all cool.”
    “Okay,” I say, swallowing down my insecurities.
    Micah holds the door for me, and I walk in.
    The place is dimly lit with a couple of tables set up in the center of the wide open floor. Some random building supplies are stacked against the walls, and there’s more dust than you can shake a stick at, but it’s awesome.
    The place gives industrial a whole new meaning, but I can see the potential—tall ceilings, a portion of it open to the second floor, dropped lighting, metal railing. It’s cool. And if I were to be completely honest, I’m kind of in awe of the fact that Deacon and Micah now own it.
    “There he is,” Deacon’s voice rings out, clapping his brother on his shoulder and pulling him into a hug. “Everybody, this is my brother Micah. Micah, everybody.”
    I watch as Micah gives a casual two-finger wave, wishing I could be half as cool and collected as he is.
    “And this is Cami.” Deacon motions to me, smiling and everyone says hello. They all seem friendly, so I make an effort and begin making my way around the room, introducing myself.
    The small crowd begins to mingle, and Deacon serves up drinks, alcoholic, I’m sure. He offers me one, but I decline. If Micah drinks, I want to be able to drive home. My daddy will shoot us both if I’m not home before my curfew.
    “Thanks for comin’,” Deacon says as he grabs me a plain Coke from an ice chest.
    “I wouldn’t have missed it.” I accept the drink and try not to react when our fingers graze during the exchange.
    “So, what do you think?” he asks, gesturing to the building.
    “I think it’s great,” I tell him. “I can see why you wanted to buy it.” I smile up at him and hope that it doesn’t look as awkward as it feels. I’ve always felt close to Deacon, but I feel our paths drifting, and the divide physically pains me.
    “Thanks.” He stops and holds my gaze. “I mean it. I’m glad you came.”
    Deacon goes on, visiting with people and I stand back and watch. Micah seems to fit right in. He and Deacon have always been good at stuff like this—mingling, being the life of the party—where I’ve always been more of an observer.
    During my observations, my attention goes to a girl with short dark hair who seems to be very familiar with Deacon. I watch as she laughs and touches his arm. When he turns to her, she leans into him, and the simple action makes my blood run cold.
    At first, I think they must just be close friends, but when Deacon’s hand comes to rest on her hip, I realize they’re probably more.
    To anyone else, the actions probably seem simple, innocent, but to me, they’re anything but. Her hands are touching the person I want to touch. She has what I want. And he’s looking at her like he only used to look at me. All of it makes my heart ache as it splits in two. To keep myself from crying, I try to think of something else, anything but the two of them. But I can’t.
    Who is she?
    What’s her name?
    I remember being introduced, but I can’t think of it through my jealous haze.
    Jenny?
    Janice?
    Janie?
    Yeah, Janie.
    I rack my brain, trying to think if I remember her name ever being brought up in conversation, but come up empty handed.
    His lips graze the top of her head, and that’s a move I know. Watching it happen to someone else is like a punch in the gut I wasn’t expecting. I feel my breath leave my body, and I force a neutral expression on my face. I can’t make a scene here. This is Deacon and Micah’s night. And no matter what, I can’t cry. Maybe tonight, when I’m alone in my bed, but not here. Not in front of all these people. Definitely,