I composed another text just in case. I didn’t want to seem like an ungrateful ass. Thanking him was the least I could do.
Thanks again for earlier and sorry I’ve been so lame.
I sent the message, forcing myself to plug in my phone and hide it inside my nightstand. Out of sight. Out of mind.
Tossing and turning, sleep completely eluding me, I finally caved in the wee hours of the morning and checked my texts,but still no response. I threw the phone back into my drawer, hating the tears that streamed down my face as I stared at the ceiling. I’d definitely pushed him away with my psychotic emotions.
Why was I so needy? Why couldn’t I just get a grip and move on like everyone else seemed to be able to? Why did everything feel so damn hard?
I just wanted to go back to those perfect moments at Thanksgiving, when my mother was alive, when Carter and I hadmended things and were talking again, when I had an appetite for life and for food. When things werenormal.
I was desperate to grab onto something that I just couldn’t seem to wrap my fingers around, because it didn’t exist. Not anymore.
Carter had his own life, and I just needed to let it go. Needed to lethimgo.
CHAPTER 20
Palms Down Ass Up
SARAFINA
I stood, hands on my hips, staring at the paint bucket in the corner of my room, deciding whether or not I was going to participate in this delusional assignment Professor Alden had given me.
I had nothing to lose and nothing better to do anyway, so against my better judgement, I hauled the damn thing outside. The minute I hit the threshold, I knew I’d made a mistake.
By late afternoon, I thought I might faint. I hadn’t so much as lifted anything heavier than a cheese stick since December. Saying I was out of shape would have been the understatement of the century.
As I struggled across campus in the heat of summer, I was really beginning to resent Professor Alden. Dragging that heavy bucket across the concrete, I decided if I didn’t wear a hole in the bottom by the end of the week, I’d just pour the damn thing out. She’d never know.
In a burst of delusional motivation, I hefted that fucking bucket up, and its very scratched rim snagged on the cement—I tripped, falling over the top of it before I could recover. I went down hard, palms first, ass up.
I cursed, wincing at my raw, stinging palms before I gave up completely. Silent tears streamed from the corners of my closedeyes as I laid in the middle of the sidewalk, wishing someone would just end my fucking misery already.
I hated this.
Hated this stupid assignment.
Hated dragging myself out of bed for class.
Hated dragging this damn bucket across campus.
Hated that my mother was dead.
Hated that my father had turned into a ghost, and that Liam seemed to be going on with life, while I was just stuck.
Hated that Carter didn’t text me back.
Hated thatIdidn’t text any of my friends back.
And most of fucking all, I hatedmyselffor being so fucking weak.
My lower lip trembled as I suppressed a guttural scream that I didn’t even have the energy to utter.
An unfamiliar voice from above asked, “You okay?”
“No.” I snapped bitterly, not bothering to open my eyes. “You can’t tell from my pathetic form that I’m clearly trying to lay here and wallow?”
“Should I just leave you here, or?”
