“Nothing.”
“Since when do you get all huffy about nothing, lil bro?” Nash adds in, turning around in his seat to face me.
“It’s nothing. Just trying to hook up with my partner about this assignment, but I haven’t had any luck,” I reply, laying my phone face down on the seat beside me.
“So, is it an omega?” Nash asks hopefully. “What’s the name? I'm going to look them up on the student registry.”
I roll my eyes at him, but give it to him. “River Ashbourne.”
The registry for the school provided a picture, if given, of every student in attendance. It also has their designation, age and any other information they wish to provide.
“Gender neutral. I like it,” Nash says as he opens the school app on his phone and quickly types in the name. “Why didn’t you look it up yourself?”
I just shrug my shoulders. It’s not that I couldn’t have. Laziness, maybe. Or, possibly, I wanted River to tell me. I don’t know. Ever since I opened that email and read the name I’ve been feeling funny.
“River Ashbourne, twenty, female and a beta,” Nash announces, his voice trailing off at the beta part. “Well, the two of you have that in common. Too bad it wasn’t an omega.”
Yeah. Too bad.
Chapter 18
River
Idon’t know how long I sat there, staring at the screen. The little green chat bubble had long since faded, but the words lingered. The project I’d been bracing myself for suddenly had a face—well, not a face, but a voice, and one that cared enough to reach out first. I read his message again. Then again. By the fifth time, I could almost hear him talking, casual and a little awkward.
My stomach churns, my chest tightens, the air thins around me and I feel as if I can’t breathe, can’tthink. It’s like I’m suffocating. My hands shake. Another cramp hits my stomach as a sour taste rises in my throat. This message is different. I’m use to being the one to initiate the conversations. It puts me in control. I dictate who has the ability to message me. But this out of the blue has me on edge.
No, no, no.The familiar itch of a blade between my fingers, the euphoria that washes over me when I press it into my skin and make that first cut suddenly overtakes me.
But I can’t. I’ve come too far to go back now. Cutting is an addiction I promised not only myself but Storm I wouldn’t fall back into.
Another wave of nausea overtakes me, and I rush to the bathroom, slamming my palm against the door and push it open. Time is running out, and I know everything is about to come up.
My legs barely listen as I lurch forward, dropping to the floor, my knees slamming down on the hard linoleum floor. I don’t care though. I’ve barely lifted the lid when the entire contents of my stomach explodes from my mouth.
I can’t stop. My whole body shakes, convulses, sweat glistens on my skin. Tears sting hot, unbidden, blurring everything. I choke, spit, gasp like I’m drowning, clutching the porcelain bowl like it’s the only thing keeping me upright. Keeping me alive.
And when my stomach finally empties and I can flush away the disaster it caused, the fear still sits there. It’s a heavy burden in my chest that doesn’t want to leave.
Breathe in. Breathe out. It’s what my therapist taught me to do when I get panicked. Instead of rushing to the object that would deflect my pain and anxiety, I work through the situation.
“Get it together, River,” I whisper hoarsely, as I pull myself up on the bathroom counter. Once I’m standing, I brace my hands on the porcelain bowl of the sink and gaze at myself in the mirror. I take a deep breath in and slowly blow it out, repeating it four times. “It’s just a message. He’s not here. He doesn’t know where you live. You’re safe.” I repeat that four times.
When my breathing is finally under control, I turn on the cold water, cupping my hands underneath the flow, collecting some to wash the distaste from my mouth.
“Teeth. I need to brush my teeth.” It’s a distraction for my brain, giving me more time to process the emotions flooding me.I stroke meticulously, covering every inch of enamel on every tooth, until I can’t taste the bile taste of vomit anymore.
Once I’m done, I head back to my living room and sit down at my desk. My fingers tap on the cherry wood in a staccato pattern.
“Fuuucckkk,” I drag out. “Come on, River, it’s a fucking message. You want to be able to be on your own one day then you’re going to have to deal with talking to people. This is the first step. It’s not like I have to meet him or anything. He doesn’t even know the real me.”
There’s a knock at my door causing me to let out a scream, before my door bursts open. Tav stands there, eyes wide, as his dark emerald eyes dart around the room. His long brown hair is pulled up into a man bun. His towering frame fills the entire doorway.
“Are you okay?” He’s already shifted the package in his hand and pulled his gun.
“Geesh, put that thing away before you shoot me. You just startled me. I was doing schoolwork.”
“Well, don’t scream in the future. Here’s your meds.” He holds out the small box to me, and I stand moving across the room, and take it from him.
