CHAPTER 26
The days slithered by like a chilled snake. Kill and I talked as much as we could. He was having a hard time accepting the amount of support the band was getting from the fans.
Trent and I had coffee once before our last semester started. He wanted to get together again, but I kept putting him off. Jessie continued to ignore me, which broke my heart everyday she turned away from me.
The first day of school arrived. I was so excited for my final class. For weeks, I’d immersed myself in fiction, falling in love with different characters. I was ready to take this class and learn the ins and outs of writing.
Kill texted me that morning, telling me to call him as soon as my class ended. He answered on the first ring. I sat in my car, too upset to drive. I began my pent-up rant before he could even finish saying hello.
"Okay, I need you to slow down, Slick. Take a deep breath and tell me what happened."
I sucked in a breath of air. It felt cool inside my burning throat, passing over the bitterness of disappointment that had been doled out to me.
"The stupid smug-assed teacher sauntered into the classroom. You would’ve laughed at me. I went into total dorky-student mode. My brand new notebook was out, my pen was poised above it. I was ready to capture the words of wisdom she would bestow upon me. I swear, Killer, my cheeks burned from how much I was smiling. And then, she just says, 'write something,' and smiled at us." I ground my teeth together and took another breath. "She didn’t even have the fucking decency to give us any pointers. She said she wanted us to put something in her office mail every Monday. I don’t even have to come to fucking class. I just have to drop whatever the hell I write in her mailbox. She didn't even specify a length. She just kept repeating the word something. I can’t believe I waited for this class for so long and all I get is, 'write something.' What a waste!” I hit my steering wheel, frustrated beyond belief.
“I'm going to drop this damned class immediately. My petition to graduate has already been accepted. I don’t even need this class. There's no point to stay in it.”
I let my head fall back onto my seat, drained by my emotional letdown. When Kill had mentioned I do something with my literature degree, I’d been both terrified and excited at the prospect. It had made me want to take this class so much more than I already did. I’d wanted the teacher to impart her wisdom, giving me enough tools so that I could earn a living doing something I loved.
When she’d said those two simple words, I’d felt my new plan crash and burn. I was going to have to crawl back to my backup plan, pleading with it to take me back. The thought of working a boring job, utilizing my biology degree, soured my stomach. I feared my newly-crushed dream would allow the ulcers I’d finally gotten rid of to reunite with my stomach lining.
“Don’t drop the class. I think it will be good for you.”
I yanked the phone away from my ear in order to give it a stunned look, before placing it back.
“Hear me out, Slick. This class is going to be good for you. You’ve always been the perfect student, taking copious notes and studying even when you knew the material forwards and backwards. This will allow you to make your own rules. I know you have stories in your head that would love to be put down on paper. Give it a chance. You said it yourself; you don’t need this class. So if you fail, it won’t matter.”
“But if I drop it, I can come on tour with you,” I whined.
It was a low blow, but I did miss Kill and the boys. Dropping the class would be a perfect solution. I’d tried it out, and it didn't work. I’d feel better about uprooting my life, knowing I’d tried. This way, it wasn't like I was giving up my dream to follow the man I was in love with.
“Don’t play dirty with me. I think you need to take this class—for you. You are always reiterating you want to find yourself and not let your boyfriend shape you. This is the perfect opportunity to do that. Besides Ray needs you.”
My vision blurred with tears. “You don’t want me to come on tour with you?” I asked, sounding just as broken as I felt.
We’d been talking every day, stressing over how much we missed each other. Was he just saying it to make me happy? Or had I drowned myself in a pool of irrational water? I didn't realize I was rubbing my ring until I looked down at my hands.
“Don’t even go there. You know I miss the fuck out of you, but I also believe in you. I think this class is going to be a good experience. Donotthink for a second I don’t want you in my rack with me every night.”
I was caught up in a riptide of irrational fear, pulling away from him.
“Whatever you're thinking, stop it now. I know how your brain works, and it's burying you in bullshit at this very moment. I can smell it. That little voice is convincing you I don’t want you. And you need to evict it immediately. You've lived under Jason’s rule for too long. I don’t want you to give up school for me, especially when you’re so close to being done. Because when you graduate, I'm never letting you out of my sight again. I just know how cathartic writing is for you. I want you to try it, and maybe it will help you heal. It will also show you how strong you are alone, and then you can realize how much stronger you are when we’re together.”
My mouth hung open as he spoke. I swore that sometimes he was able to read my mind. “Okay, Killer. I'll stay in the class, but if I get a bad grade, I'm going to kick your ass."
I tried to remove the doubt like he’d told me, but it was a thick, manipulative leech and it was holding on for dear life.
“I love you, Slick, and I miss you. I'll call you tonight after the show.”
“Love you too; have a great show.”
I drove back home, refusing to obsess over my conversation with Kill like I normally would. Instead, I started obsessing over what I could possibly write.
At home, I shuffled through the mail as I made my way inside. I opened a letter addressed to me with no return address, sporting a Portland postmark.
My blood ran cold when I saw what was inside. Clenched in my hand was a picture of Kill with his tongue shoved down some girl’s throat, his hands firmly planted on her ass. I wanted to scream. I’d let myself become convinced he would be faithful to me. My hands moved to crumple the picture but paused when the background caught my eye.
Studying it closer, I noticed Kill was sitting at the boys’ table at Ray’s. He looked younger...and sad. I could tell right away it had been taken when Kill was going through hisI’m going to fuck anything with a vagina to make me feel betterphase.
