I FEEL LIKE Afucking loser. Having spent so much time tryingnotto be vulnerable with others, to avoid them seeing this disappointing side of me, it’s become hard to reconcile giving Nate even a single lick of it.
But the confusion inside of me came bursting out anyway, giving him a small glimpse into my soul. At least he agreed to forget it; at least he didn’t call me a pussy and run.
He didn’t… he didn’trun.
Instead, we spent the next day together, doing mundane things like watching the ports and exploring the town. And I didn’t hate it. Sure, it was slightly uncomfortable and a little more personal than I ever saw myself getting with him, but it was nice.
Especially since he never stopped treating me as he normally does. Even as we walked the small-town streets, Nate kept shit-talking me and shoving me around. Putting his hands on me in the most deliciously rough manner.
Spending time with him like that, giving him my sorrow in small increments, has made my plan feel pointless. How can Iseduce him and then drop him when his disappearing act makes me panic?
Maybe… maybe I don’tneedrevenge. What if all I need is company? Company that I can be real with, even if all we ever are is a bundle of hatred, annoyance, and aggressive sex?
Not that I… not that I stillhatehim. It’s kind of hard to when he handles me so well, isn’t it? And he seems to be a little confused on that front too—on whether or not he hates me, I mean.
And I’ll take that. If the best I can get from Nate is the potential that he might not loathe me, I’ll latch on like a starving pup.
I’ve received less.
And now it’s been a few days since I saw him last, and even though I’ve always looked forward to Friday nights, I’m not exactly pleased at this moment.
Because Nate isn’t here, and I want him to be. Instead, I’ll have to wait another week—time spent longing for and anticipating his touch. His cruel words. His warmth.
I’m currently hiding out at my parents’ house, and I know the longer I stay, the more Susie’s wrath will build. Julian and Atlas are still in town, and I’ve been hiding here since I flew back and learned they’d be arriving on Monday.
Not exactly because I anticipate it hurting to see the two of them together—though thatisa possibility—but because I’m nervous that the other Chastain son would have mentioned seeing me with Nate, and that’s a conversation I’m not ready to have with Julian.
All that to say, Susie is pissed about it. She’s convinced I should be around my friends if I’m feeling down and is even more irritated since this is supposed to be Atlas’s birthday present. Hanging out with Julian’s friends and seeing his hometown, I mean.
Unfortunately for the Chastain boy, I don’t feel like entertaining guests at the moment. And with my dad finally getting a start date out of me, he’s graciously decided to leave me alone.
Hiding out in my childhood bedroom seems to be the safest option at the moment. And yet, I don’t feel particularly good.
I want Nate to come and see me. I want this darkness to go away. Over the past few days, it’s been building again, and it almost makes me believeheis the only cure. Being with him.
Which, of course, makes me extremely codependent, not that I will admit that out loud.
And Nate hasn’t even sent a single text. Not that I’d expect him to. He never did before, and seeing my momentary weakness shouldn’t change ourentiredynamic. I just thought… well, I wanted…
I’m not sure how to finish that. Just as I’m not sure where to go from here, now that I’ve decided against getting my revenge, I don’t think I’mthatupset about Julie and Atlas anymore.
Being full of so many unexplainable emotions and this unnecessary darkness makes me itch. It makes me feel weak and broken. It has me clinging to the idea of seeing Nate again, even if just briefly, so that I can stop feeling all ofthis.
The sun has set, and I know for certain that somewhere in this town, Julian, Atlas, and Susie are out exploring or partying.And I’m here, missing the one man I shouldn’t and drowning in emotion as I lie in bed and wallow.
It’s gripping me by the throat, making me melancholy and isolated. I want to cry; I want to scream. I want a fucking reprieve.
Maybe this is why I grab my phone, dialing the one number that has never answered. I’m not truly expecting him to do so now—in fact, I’m kind of hoping hedoesn’t. I have no way of explaining my feelings when I don’t understand them myself.
Plus, explaining my feelings to Nate? That is not what we do.
So why do I want to try?
Nate answers on the second ring, and it feels almost like betrayal.
“Hello?” He sounds as if he’s been sleeping, which makes sense as it’s a little past ten.
It alsodoesn’tmake sense, considering it’s a Friday night. But then again, Nateisold, so.
