The stupid fucking stars.
I climbed up on my bed, ignoring the pain in my knee, the ache in my wrist and I started tearing them down. They flung every which way as I screamed, cried, and hated myself for ruining his life.
I must’ve been loud, because suddenly there were arms around me—Orion had come running. And I fought him, injuries forgotten, because none of it mattered, because what mattered were getting the stupid fucking stars off my ceiling.
I reached down and rubbed my knee absentmindedly. It had been a few months, and an online article had gone viral—throwing all sorts of accusations at me. I’d lost it. Everything just kind of went quiet in my head. I remember that part weirdly enough—how everything just seemed to pause for a moment. It’s almost as if the universe knew I needed a moment, before snapping back to reality.
I was barely into my recovery for my knee, and climbing on my bed hadn’t done it or me any favors. My parents had been out of town, so it fell on Orion’s shoulders to haul me to the ER. I told them all that it didn’t matter that I’d fucked up my knee again—I was done skating and I was done looking at the stupid, fucking stars. Orion had stayed with me in the hospital that night, until Annalise showed up. I listened to them talk while I let the pain meds numb me to the world and drag me under.
I staredat my ceiling as my tears slowed, thinking about those stupid stars. I wiped the last few rogue tears from my cheeks as my phone buzzed.
I ignored it.
Then, it buzzed again.
And again.
And again.
And then in rapid succession in this way only a best friend could utterly blow up your notifications. I ignored the little red dot on the smut sluts group chat as I signed and hit the answer button.
“Bitch, I wouldn’t have to blow up your phone if you would just answer any of my texts,” Eloise said.
“What do you want?” I sounded hoarse and stuffy from crying.
“Aimee?” She sounded concerned.
We’d been friends for forever—long before Asher entered my life. For a while it had been the three of us.
“What’s wrong? Do I need to come over? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I croaked.
“Bullshit. You’re a terrible liar.”
I huffed a laugh that turned into a sob.
“Aimee.”
“The stupid, fucking stars.”
I heard her exhale, the realization. She knew about the stars—what they meant, what I did to them. Fresh tears burned in my eyes and my head was starting to ache.
“Anniversaries are hard.”
I scoffed.
I was tired of myself and seemingly being stuck in these emotions. The pressure was turning into pain in my chest the longer I held it in.
“I’ll talk to you later,” I managed to get out.
“Aimee, wait?—”
I ended the call just as the sobs broke free.
“Do you like them?”
I paused as I crossed the threshold into my room. Asher was sitting on my bed, grinning.
