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Maybe it was time he went through a little of his own.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Sloane
Reason #1 why I’m fucked up: I tend to not trust my instincts. If I had, I wouldn’t have lost you.
What I’m going to do about it: This note is a start.
- Dorian
*
That was the first note I’d gotten from Dorian Prinze. It fell out of my locker that morning I’d seen him and the others at my house.
They didn’t stop.
The next few days we had at school, they arrived in the most random places. I found them in my bookbag, as well as in my gym locker of all places. He was obviously recruiting his Court minions to help him out, and each note started the same way. They consisted of a reason as to why he was fucked up, his own words, and then a solution as to how he was going to fix it. Reason number two was that he had trouble admitting his own faults. These were obviously my words, and his solution then had been simple. He was going to give me notes until he proved to me that wasn’t the case. That solution sounded a lot like his first, but with the rest, he started to get more creative…
As well as even more personal.
Reason #6: I don’t like anything that threatens me. That goes for anything from people to my performance on the field. I actually went vegan so I could play better, but hated it so much those first few months I thought I was going to bitch out. I’ve since learned to appreciate it, and now, I’m vegan because I actually like it—mostly. Don’t tell the boys and especially don’t tell my father. He’d look at my ass like I was crazy. My mother is a vegan, and he never understood it.
What I’m going to do about it: I’m going to try new things like I handled veganism. I hope you’ll see that soon. You’re the ultimate threat, Noa Sloane.
- Dorian
Reason #12: Personal shit gives me hives, whether it’s learning about others or giving them things about myself. This is mostly because I hate fucking small talk. Every minute means something. Every hour. Every second. I don’t like wasting anything for the sake of goddamn normalcy and societal expectations. Fuck society.
What I’m going to do about it: Refer to reason #6. I literally thought telling you about actually liking veganism would kill me. It didn’t. Reason #12 is officially corrected.
- D
Reason #15: I find myself thinking about what your reasons are, i.e., the things about yourself you might not like, but I could never see myself asking you about them. For some reason these notes are easier.
What I’m going to do about it: One day I will ask you, but one better—I won’t expect anything back. This will lead into my next reason why I’m fucked up. Just wait for it. It’s coming soon.
- dark prince (yeah, I remember your nickname for me)
Reason #16: I have issues with anger and control. I could blame everything on what happened with Charlie, and though that contributed, that isn’t the reason. I believe, at the heart, it’s ingrained in me if that’s at all possible. You wouldn’t think shit could be passed down, but if you knew some of the fucked-up things in my family history, you’d think different. It actually scares me sometimes (Reason #12 corrected again, hah), which is a huge reason I respect the hell out of my father. He has these same issues, but you’d never know it unless you know him. He’s learned to embrace his darkness and has somehow conquered it. He’s the best person I know outside of my mother.
What I’m going to do about it: Listen to the announcements today.
- whatever you want me to be
*
That last note, his reason number sixteen, I read at my locker that day. It’d fallen out like many of the others before, but this one felt different.
It was also the first one that made me want to see him.
His reasons were diving deeper, like he was exposing himself on lined paper right in front of me. Obviously, he hadn’t said these things to me, but he’d written them.
I didn’t know how to feel about that, and even though I’d been shamelessly looking forward to every one of his reasons, I hadn’t been so willing to let him back into my life. He was fucked up, and him professing his affection now could have just been a ploy. This boy got what he wanted from everyone, so why should I be any different than a toy he suddenly couldn’t have? I was probably the first person who’d said no to him.
“You got one minute, Dorian.”
The voice came from the intercom, female and who I knew to be Ares’s mom, Mrs. Mallick. I’d yet to see her, but I had heard her voice over the intercom every morning when she did the announcements.
