Although I expected it, practically manifested it, my vision clouds over. My chest caves in, and the room tilts as the air drains from my lungs, even though I pushed him to this. I knew this would happen.
“Every time you pull away, it hurts me,” he murmurs. “I know I hide it. I know it seems like nothing gets to me. I’m great at putting on a brave face when I need to. I’m an expert at concealing the negative shit, but…but I don’t think I can anymore. Not with you.”
His words slice through me, and I know they’re going to leave a scar.
“I’ve tried to help you,” he continues on. “I’ve tried to be there for you. I’ve tried to prove to you how much I care for you. And it really fucking hurts when you question me over and over. I’ve never been anything but honest with you.”
He pauses and waits for me to say something. Anything. But I don’t. I can’t. So he keeps going.
“Look,” he says, running a hand through his hair for the millionth time. “I’ve been clear about my feelings and my intentions from the very beginning, and I don’t know what else I can do to make you believe in this. To make you believe in me.” The pain in his eyes is gut-wrenching as they bore into mine. “Doyouknow?”
“No,” I whisper, though inside I’m frenzied and frantic. Inside, I’m screaming because I just lost the other half of my heart.
“I need to take a step back, Ivy. I’m sorry. I need space.”
I needto take a step back, Ivy. I’m sorry. I need space.
The moment he says those words, I run. I pack up my things and leave the house as quickly as possible, ignoring his protests to drive me home.
I feel them again, rampant inside me. The violence, raging. The anger, festering. The truth, still impossible to speak, even after all this time. How can that be? How is that possible? How can one person be such a fucking coward?
Halfway home, I debate turning right around and forcing out the words, even if it kills me.
He won’t believe you.
But what if he DOES?
It doesn’t matter anymore. You broke it.
I need to scream.
I swallow it down.
I shut myself in my room.
I skip class for three days.
I ignore my phone and lock my door. I don’t answer even for Quinn.
I have never been in a place so dark.
I lost the one thing worth living for.
Wes.
And it’s all my fault.
It’s not a conscious decision,but when I arrive at class on Tuesday, I go to the right side of the room instead of the left. I take one of the seats in the back that are empty from time to time. I stare at the wall instead of the window.
Something draws my eyes up. A magnetic force. A ray of light. The sight of him makes me want to cry, so I look down, unable to make eye contact just like that first day of class. Onlythis time the fear is replaced with longing. With what ifs and regret. With rage aimed only at myself.
Which is why I’m so caught off guard when the seat beside me creaks.
My head snaps up. “What are you doing?”
His gaze is focused on mine, and up close, I notice the changes in him. The scruff across his jaw. The bags under his eyes. The bloodshot whites and the crease between his brows. His rumpled appearance makes my chest ache. “I’ve been worried about you,” he says softly. “You missed two classes.”
“I-I was sick,” I mutter, tripping over the lie and averting my eyes to the desk. When I look at Wes now, all I see are the mistakes I made to lose him.
