Aimee puts her hands on her hips and glares at me. “That’s what you’re calling it? Theo! Blake’s ass was on display. The entire office got an eyeful,” she seethes. “I’m failing to see how any of this was funnyorwelcoming.”
“Made me laugh.” I shrug. I refuse to let her make me feel bad. Blake deserves everything I throw at her. “Anyway, it’s payback for the glitter incident.”
“After you put food dye in her face mist and then failed to mention an important meeting,” she shouts, pointing a finger at me.
Her eyes are filled with so much anger and disappointment that, for just a second, I start to feel bad. Then I remember what I saw.
Finishing up for the day, I grab my bag and head out. Blake said she was staying in the dorms tonight, but I’m a needy bastard and want my cuddles. I love being held by her, the way she plays with my hair, the way she makes me whimper as she rakes her nails through it. Her stomach has to be the best pillow I’ve ever slept on, and I’m not even the slightest bit sorry.
There’s just something about Blake Adams that gets me every time.
I’ve only known her for a few months. I’m working on the most significant case of my career, and I needed help. I chuckle to myself as I think of the first time I saw her—long brunette hair, big brown eyes that held a hint of darkness that matched mine, and the cutest button nose I’ve ever seen. I’ve forgotten how many times I’ve tapped it lightly just because. She was hiding under leggings and a hoodie, and I was dying to get my hands on her—in a non-weird way. I mean, I like things rough, but consensual at the same time.
Walking through the college grounds with the night stars twinkling and the moon bright, I think of how I've gotten so lucky—havingnot only the job of my dreams but the girl of my dreams too. Things like this don’t happen to guys like me, ones that had the worst upbringing known to man.
I get to Blake’s dorm room and knock. There’s no answer, but the door gives way slightly. I shrug. Maybe she left it open for me? Walking into the spacious area, I hear noises coming from her bedroom. My heart stops in my chest.
She wouldn’t? Would she?
Don’t ask me why I don’t go in there ready to murder someone; I guess I just wanna make sure it’s not what I think it is, and it’s just a horrible fucking mistake.
Pushing the door open a fraction, my heart explodes into a million pieces, tears lining my eyes as I watch a very naked Blake get railed by some dude that most definitely isn’t me. Her head’s shoved into the mattress, and she’s not fighting him, so she must be complicit, like she’s part of this and I meant nothing.
I stumble back, haunted by what I’ve seen. Turning, I run as fast as I can out of there, then fall to my hands and knees on the sidewalk once I’m outside. The contents of my stomach fly out of my mouth, splattering in front of me, and my heart splinters down the center.
“Theo? Are you listening to me?”
Aimee’s voice brings me back. I swallow and clear my throat, emotion from that night hitting me all over again.
“I don’t get why you’re being like this,” she says softly. “It’s so unlike you. I keep asking Blake, but she won’t say anything. Do you guys know each other?”
I glance at Aimee. I could tell her that Blake and I have a history, tell her what happened, but once again, when my brain tells me to say it, the words don’t come out.
“There’s nothing to tell, short stack,” I finally say. They were the only words I could force out. “Now, not to be an asshole, but I’ve got stuff to do, so if you could get out and close the door on your way, that would be great.”
I turn my back on her, looking out across the city as I wait for her to leave. The door closing sounds like a gunshot ricocheting throughout the room, the silence deafening as I’m left alone with thoughts I’ve tried so hard to avoid.
“Slow down, tips,” James says, frowning.
We decided to have our weekly meetup at Bucky’s. It’s an off-campus dive bar, but we love it. Beer’s pretty good too.
“I’m fine, Dad. Just a long day and I need to let off some steam,” I huff, downing my third shot of tequila in the last half hour.
If I’m not being carried out of here by these pussies at the end of the night, I didn’t do my job properly.
Having BPD and PTSD means that my intrusive thoughts happen from the minute I wake up to the minute I go to bed. I’ve managed to stave it off, pushing the thoughts down and out by keeping myself so busy I don’t know what day it is half the time. However, in moments of quiet, like tonight when things get too much, I struggle to cope. The razor blade in my cabinet was looking pretty damn good.
I have so many thoughts at one point or another that I can’t think straight. I can’t figure out what emotion I’m supposed to be feeling or how to feel it. It’s just there. When I’d run the blade across my top left thigh, I could breathe. I didn’t need to clutch my hands in my hairand scream into the abyss anymore. Every stroke of the blade cutting deeper and deeper, the crimson red bubbling to the surface, meant that my brain was a little less chaotic, that everything sitting on my shoulders wasn’t there anymore.
Completely unhealthy, but when you’ve been beaten black and blue by your mom from a young age and sexually assaulted by your stepfather since you were five, life gets hard sometimes.
So yeah, instead of cutting myself and going into bad habits I haven’t done since the night I tried to kill myself, I called the boys. They think it was because I wanted to chase tail. It wasn’t, I just needed my support buddies, even if they didn’t know it.
“I heard you tried to get it on with my woman,” Caleb says to James, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Wait? What? When did you chat Lauren up?” I chuckle, my eyes darting between Caleb and James.
“It was ages ago, plus you were there that night,” James grumbles into his beer, looking anywhere but at Caleb.
