is one of the hardest things I’ve done, emotionally. I’m fucking lost without him. He’s the light in the dark maze of my life. I want to beg him not to let me go, not to disconnect the only lifeline I have, but I don’t. I can’t do that to him. He’s with his family and needs time to be with them, his daughter, his siblings, his parents.
“Aw don’t look so sad, P Dog,” Brendon knocks his shoulder into mine and I lift a lip at him.
“Do not call me that.”
Paul smirks and shakes his head. “It’s easier to just ignore the nicknames. If he knows they bother you, he’ll do it more.”
I let out an exasperated breath and pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’m going back to the dorms.”
“We’ve had enough fun for today,” Brendon agrees and pulls up Uber on his phone to call a ride.
Fun is definitely not how I would describe today, but I do begrudgingly appreciate what they were trying to do. I just want to go back to the dorm and sulk. I’m not telling them that though.
The ride shows up quickly and I sit in the front with the driver so I’m not forced to talk to Brendon. He’s a little shit and he knows it. I’m pretty sure he gets off on annoying the shit out of people. Specifically, me.
Back in my dorm room, I take a deep breath and let my shoulders relax for the first time in what feels like days. The last week was brutal with practices, games, and mentally preparing for Jeremy to leave. I tried to put space between us, to stand on my own like I’ve done since I was ten, but I couldn’t. Every time I tried, I clung to him more. It was infuriating.
Classes are over for the semester so I don’t even have homework to keep me busy, I’m not much of a TV or movie watcher, so what the fuck am I supposed to do for the next two weeks?
I text Lily to see what she’s up to, but she’s out with her friends, and I don’t want to bother Jeremy again.
So I pace my room that smells like Jeremy. Smells like comfort, safety, home. How can a person be home?
Back and forth, back and forth. How have I not walked a hole through this floor? The anxiety tensing my body is also turning my stomach. I rub at my chest, flick my fingers, but it’s not helping. Fuck. I need something to do.
Changing into workout gear, I take the stairs down the first floor, to avoid Paul and Brendon, and head to the gym. Since it’s a Sunday night, there’s no one here.
You’re the only one without a life. Get a grip. Paul and Brendon are only hanging out with you because Jeremy asked them to. They don’t actually care about you. Who would?
I get my earbuds connected to my phone and find my running playlist to start stretching and warming up.
Once my muscles are warmed up and loose, I up the speed on the treadmill until I can’t think about anything but my breathing. The pain in my side eventually goes away and the burn in my legs becomes a constant, but I focus on the air entering and exiting my lungs.
Around the four mile mark, my phone rings with a video call from Jeremy. Shit. He’s going to see right through me and know why I’m in here.
Do I answer it?
Fuck it.
I hit accept on the call and slow the treadmill down to a walk to cool down, sweaty and breathing hard when Jeremy’s smiling face fills my screen.
“I had a feeling you would be at the gym.” His voice fills my ears and I give him a tired smile.
“I’m not hard to figure out.” Grabbing the towel I threw over the machine, I wipe my splotchy face. “What are you up to?”
“Everyone went to bed so I was hoping to get some alone time with you.” He gives me a wink.
“You just want to get off.” I shake my head in mock disappointment. “Using me for my body, such a shame, Albrooke.”
It should worry me how easily I’ve learned how to hide from him when he’s looking right at me. I know he’s checking in on me because he’s worried. He wants to phone sex, or whatever it’s called, via video call because he knows getting off will help me sleep, but I don’t tell him I’m struggling without him. I can’t tell him I’m afraid to go to sleep without him. Should I? Probably. But how is that going to help? All that does is make him feel like shit for being with his family, which is where he should be.
“You going to take me in the shower with you?”
I give him a not a chance look and he laughs. He hasn’t seen me without clothes on. When we fuck, I stay covered. Sometimes I let him touch me, but he’s only seen the damage to my body once or twice. Even that much makes it hard for me to breathe.
“You know I’m not turned off by the scars, right?” Jeremy turns serious as I shut down the machine and find a wipe to clean it.
“I am.” The two words are curt, harsher than I mean for them to be, but talking about them puts me on edge.
“Boyfriend,” Jeremy says, like it’s my name.
“That word is so childish. Undignified.” I scowl at him while he smiles at me.
“Well, manfriend sounds skeezy, guyfriend sounds like a buddy, and you’re more than my fuck buddy, so deal with it.”
I sigh heavily as I head into the locker room to grab my shower shit.
“Oh, baby, taking me to the showers.” He wags his eyebrows at me and I roll my eyes. “Come on, don’t tell me you’ve never thought about fucking me in the shower. I think about it all the time.”
Well, that has my attention. Images of Jeremy wet and naked in the shower, moaning my name definitely has appeal.
“I don’t think about anyone in the shower. I hate being in them but I hate being dirty, so I shower with the lights off.” Why the fuck did you say that? Way to ruin the mood, you fucking idiot.
Jeremy is quiet, no longer smiling with happiness but giving me one of those sad smiles you give to someone who’s grieving. Fuck.
“Get that god damn look off your face right now,” I snap, clenching my jaw as I suck in a breath. “I hate it. Don’t pity me.”
“I’m allowed to empathize. Sometimes the shit you say is really fucking sad, dude,” he snaps back. “I care about you, so sometimes when you say shit like you shower in the dark, it hurts me too. I don’t want you to live like that.”
“You don’t get to decide how I live.” How the fuck did we get here? “The way I’ve coped has been working for years, I’m fine. I don’t need your fucking empathy!” I can’t look at him. I can’t see his face lined with frustration or anger or empathy right now.
“Since this is going nowhere, I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I hope you can sleep. Call me if you need to.” His voice is softer than I expected. He’s obviously upset with me but trying to be the bigger person. “I lo-”
“Don’t!” I bark the word at him and it echoes in the empty locker room, severe and full of fear. There’s no way what he was about to say is true. None. Zero. Not a fucking chance. I can feel how wide my eyes are, the hard set of my lips as I hold my breath and beg him not to say it. The fear coursing through my veins like ice at the idea of him saying that word is more than I can handle.
His face falls and there’s nothing I can do about it. It breaks my fucking heart.
“Good night.” His murmur is as full of emotion as the lines on his face. He won’t look at me now as he chews on the inside of his lip.
“Jeremy…” I try, but my voice cracks.
He shakes his head and ends the call. Now it’s my turn for tears to burn my eyes and the back of my throat. God damn it! I ruin everything!
I toss my phone across the room where it hits a locker with a crunch and I yell until I’m bent over and can’t breathe.
What the fuck have you done?
“Fuuuuuuuck!” Grabbing my bag, I stalk over to my busted phone and pick it up. I’m even more furious when the screen is cracked and only parts of it light up.
He’s never going to talk to you again. He hates you. He’ll never love you. Ever. You’ve destroyed the only good thing in your life and you’re going to have to watch while he picks up the pieces of his life and moves on without you.
With my chest tight and the weight of my fuck-ups heavy on my shoulders, I storm back to the dorms. I need to get out of my head. I can’t live in my mind anymore.
I throw my shit in my room and head down to Paul and Brendon’s room, banging on the door with shaking hands.
Paul’s smile fades when he sees the emotions on my face. “Dude, what’s wrong?”
“I need out of my head. How do I make it stop?” My voice breaks again, a tear escaping from my eye that I angrily wipe away.
“Uh yeah, come in.” He steps back from the door to let me through. Brendon is laying on his bed with big headphones on. He takes them off and sits up when he spots me.
“Hey P Dadd—” He stops abruptly when Paul makes a cut throat motion next to me. “What’s going on?”
Paul digs a few bottles out from under his bed. “We’re getting Carmichael drunk.”
“Alright!” Brendon fistbumps the air and scoots to the edge of the bed, reaching for a bottle with brown liquid. “Rum is my poison of choice.”
“We’ve got rum, vodka, and whiskey.” Paul lifts the bottles in his hands.
“I don’t know and I don’t care. Just get me fucked up. I don’t want to think anymore.” Paul looks at me like he’s trying to read me, trying to figure out what’s pushed me this far. Probably thinking he needs to call Jeremy.
I grab the bottle with clear liquid, unscrew the cap, and take a chug of it. The burn down my throat makes me cough.
“Jesus,” Paul mutters. “Have you ever drank before? Have you eaten recently?”
I force myself to take another big gulp of the nasty shit, coughing again at the burn. It’s like drinking rubbing alcohol. It’s awful but warmth is spreading from my stomach to the rest of my body.
You’re so weak.
“How long until it works?” I ask Brendon, who is watching me with his mouth open.
This is why Father cuts you.
You’re useless.
Another gulp and my shoulders relax.
Two more and my brain is fuzzy. I stumble against the dresser and lean heavily on it. Finally able to breathe, I close my eyes.
“You okay, man?” Brendon touches my shoulder and I jerk away from him.
“No touching.” I take another swing from the bottle and drop my ass to the floor. “Touch means pain. I’m tired of the pain.”
“Hey, dude. We have a situation here and I am concerned.” Paul’s voice sounds far away. Did he leave the room or am I losing the ability to hear? Does alcohol do that?
I hate this.
I just want Jeremy to curl up with, to smell his bodywash and deodorant, feel his heartbeat against me. I don’t want to be alone anymore.
