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“Are you?—”
“J-Jeremy,” a voice chokes out, stealing what little air was left in the room.
I go rigid.
Mason starts to lift his head, and I find myself shaking mine before I quickly turn for the door, muttering, “I’m gonna, uh, get something to clean this up.”
A high-pitched whining sound fills my ears, warring with the sluggish roar of my heart, slowly drowning out the anguished sounds that spills from Mason’s crumpled form on the floor.
Out in the hall, I reach behind me, fumble around for the knob, and gently close Mason’s bedroom door..
The silence out here is even heavier—unbearably so—reminding me of a pressure cooker about to blow.
My chest feels funny as I make my way to the kitchen. Tight, but also not. With each step that takes me away from the scene in the bedroom, I feel less and less a part of my body. And I keep having to swallow and blink like if I don’t, I’ll just…fade away. Disappear within myself.
So cold…
I’m so cold.
On autopilot, I grab the roll of paper towel, removing it from its stand. My gaze homes in on my fingers—long and pale in the shadows, there’s no mistaking their tremor.
Yet it feels like I’m looking at someone else.
I hold the roll to me and look around the strange, yet vaguely familiar kitchen…the attached living room…
Remembering how it was only a couple days ago when I woke up on the couch, head pounding, memory fuzzy.
“You told me you wished it was you.”
Clamping down on my molars, I shake my head, blinking rapidly now.
“I didn’t even let myself consider the possibility until you brought it up the other night!”
Everything that happened tonight rushes forth at once, his voice—his words—echoing, replaying on a vicious, relentless loop.
My lips tingle, and pain shoots through my chest.
“Stupid, so stupid…”
“Shut up.”
A pained, choked noise bursts out of me, and I clutch the edge of the counter, only distantly aware of the roll of paper towel falling to the floor. My vision blurs, hot tears welling up in my eyes as I grip the counter so tight, I feel it dig grooves into my palms as I sink to my haunches.
Eyes squeezed shut, I press my face into the cabinet, just as I feel the first tear squeeze out, streaking down my face.
My chest is on fire.
My stomach roils.
I only had a few sips of vodka, yet there’s an ocean sloshing in my gut, bringing a rush of bile to my throat.
He kissed me.
Mason kissed me.
Another repressed sob punches out of me, muffled only my sealed lips. It claws up from my chest so forcefully, I half expect it to scrape my throat bloody with the effort to keep it inside.
I can’t…I can’t…
