“I’m leaving, I had something to do here. I’ve gotta get back though, I have a huge assignment due Monday.” A lie. But what’s new with me at this point?
“You should come over to Adam’s and work on homework with us. Brit also has something due Monday, so she’ll make sure you don’t get distracted.”
“No, that’s okay.” I politely bow out. After the confrontation with Adam, I’m a little frayed—I can’t handle another dismissal.
She doesn’t take my no for an answer, grabbing my upper arm and turning me back around the way I came. I pull against her grip, and she turns her head toward mine with an inquisitive look.
“I don’t have my stuff, I need my English book.” We don’t have an assignment due, and I definitely would not need my book to do anything.
“Hunter!” A masculine voice rings out. I freeze, my whole body going tense with anxiety. Is he trying to find me to belittle me some more, because if that’s the case, I need to get out of here quick.
“I’ll text you; we can make plans for lunch this week. Or something,” I offer, turning back and walking the opposite way. One foot in front of the other.
“Yeah, let me know when you’re free. I know this great—” her words cut off when I round the corner and see the exit sign for the stairs. My holy grail right now.
I quicken my pace when I hear my name echoing down the hallways again. My shoes slapping against the carpet with every step until I wrench the door open and pound down the stairs.
I shove open the door leading outside, feeling the hot sun on my face. I take a deep breath, inhaling the fresh smell of cut grass, and tilt my head up to look at the sky. The normally bright blue sky is fading to a dull gray. A storm is moving in.
The walk back to my room is filled with fake smiles at other students in groups, looking like they’re enjoying the last of the day before they’re trapped indoors to stay dry.
I can see my building at the same time the bottom of the sky opens up, drenching my clothes and me in the process. Just a little bit farther.
I’m chilled to the bone as I push open the door to my room, ignoring my roommate who is talking obnoxiously loudly on the phone. I change and huddle under my blankets, taking comfort in the warmth and the smell of fresh detergent while I scroll on my phone, looking for new ideas for my next batch of bookmarks.
This is all I need: the stability of being alone and only having to rely on myself.
10
ADAM
Fuck. I run my hands through my hair, tugging on the short strands to the point of pain. Why did I do that? Why did I treat him like that? I could see the look on his face while we walked back to my dorm, he looked serene. Like he was finally at peace, and the flutter in my stomach morphed into a slew of butterflies. Overhim.He looked so happy while we walked down the sidewalks filled with people, and my hand itched with the need to tangle our fingers together. But that’s crazy, because I amnotgay.
He’s interesting, I could watch him all day, learning every mannerism he possesses. The wide smiles he shows when people pass by, but no matter how hard he tries, I can see the hint of melancholy underneath. I want to take away each and every thing that causes him pain. When he followed behind me into my room, my heart stopped for a minute and then started back up in a different rhythmic pattern. One that belongs just to him.
I rushed, trying to find those stupid notes, I knew I brought them with me. Every single thing I own is in this room; the mansion on the other side of town houses nothing except theremembrance of my parents. I refuse to set foot in there, not yet. Maybe not ever.
The house that I grew up in, where so many memories were made. A dull pain spears through my head when I try to push away the memories. I’m not strong enough to visit them yet. But the visions of maids picking up after me, making sure the place was spotless all day, every day, no matter what was going on in those four walls of hell.
I finally found them at the bottom of a gray tote that was pushed into the back of my closet.
But when I walked out of my room and saw Hunter standing at the kitchen sink, and all the clutter from the table gone, I was hit with a sense of…Wrong.This was all wrong. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be now. I can take care of myself and clean up after myself. I can do the little things that it takes to be independent, but the clutter is a reminder that no matter what happens, I’m stillme.And it’s dumb, I know that. But it’s a choice I made when I came to college. Leaving behind the thoughts and feelings from growing up with two absent parents and being entrusted to the care of nannies and watching as maids did everything around the house like I was helpless. I’mnothelpless.
The walls started closing in on me, the imaginary world that I’ve built up around me crumbling, wall by wall.
I’m not Adam Carter, second-year business student with friends and loves to write in his free time.
I’m Adam James Carter III, being molded into a cut-throat businessman. Others’ feelings don’t matter; what matters is being the best. Watching my father drink himself to death in the study of our too-big house while my mother lay in bed and cried over their loveless marriage. My father told me countless times he wished I hadn’t been born, just so he wouldn’t be shackled to her. I didn’t understand before, but fuck, do I now. Love makespeople weak, it makes them do stupid things. My mother was weak for falling in love with a ruthless man she thought she could change. Night after night of him getting home late and never telling her where he was, even though everyone knew. If it wasn’t for the perfume smell, it was definitely obvious by the fresh lipstick marks and hickeys he walked around proudly with. Like he was showcasing a Rolex instead of breaking my mother’s heart.
It’s something that I can’t move on from. Therapists, psychiatrists, even the school has tried to help me. There’s nothing that can be done, my brain is rewired. Fucked past the point of oblivion.
The only thing that has brought me a semblance of peace has been writing, putting my thoughts into words that can explain the pain I’m feeling when I can’t find the words to say out loud.
That’s changed now; something in me is calling out to Hunter. With his brown eyes and the slight scar on his upper lip. I yearn for him, and for his bright smiles that I wish were truthful. Maybe that’s what this is, my pain recognizes him. We’re two peas in a pod in this fucked up world, meant to stay by each other and keep each other secure and protected.
I have to fix this. I need to offer Hunter something, so he won’t think I’m another asshole who is going to keep his smiles and push him away when he gets too close.
What can I say though, I’m sorry for freaking out because it reminds me of the past I don’t want to think about? That’s a shitty reason, even for me. But it’s the best I’ve got. He seems like the kind of person who understands, but it won’t fix the problem.
