Page 75 of He Hate Me

“This is my shit, Devin. Don’t worry, I’ll leave tonight, but I’m taking this with me.”

“I cannot allow⁠—“

“You cannot stop me, you mean,” Brandon says. “I can bench two-seventy. Can you?”

They glare at each other. They’re around the same height, but Brandon is visibly more muscular. And the sneer he’s wearing right now, he looks like he’d be only too happy to deck his guardian. I feel like I’m looking at a stranger. I know he hates Devin, but to threaten to hurt him?

“Whatever,” Devin says. He stands back while Brandon packs up the drugs and closes the case. He looks at me sheepishly as he retrieves his books and calculator. I’m a little surprised he’s taking them, TBH. He tries to snag my hand one last time before he leaves, but I pull it back, avoiding meeting his eyes.

When he’s gone, I collapse onto the bed, a hollow feeling in my chest. My mother’s arm enfolds me, pulling me into her baby powder scented body. She strokes my back, soothingly.

“When I asked you about sex with Jayden, I guess I was looking in the wrong place, huh?” She’s trying to lighten the mood and she is able to get a tiny smile out of me. “How long have the two of you been having sex.”

“Just a few days,” I say softly.

“Is that why you fell asleep at Rourke’s last night?”

I nod.

“And the two of you couldn’t wait more than a day to do it again?”

“I didn't expect sex to be so…addictive,” I say. “I feel so stupid.”

“Brandon’s your first?” I nod. “I’m sorry, honey. It must hurt to realize you chose the wrong person to be with. You’re eighteen, so I’m not going to talk to you as if you’re a child. You screwed up, and I hope you learn from this. The right guy is out there, and he’ll be worth the wait.”

I think about last night, the wholeness I’d felt, the way Brandon looked at me with adoration. I can’t imagine that with some other guy.

“Were you safe?”

I shrug. We were half the time. Tonight is borderline because the effectiveness of my birth control may or may not have kicked in yet.

I shake myself and stand up.

“I need to finish my reading assignment.”

“Deja?!”

“You know me, Mommy,” I say. “Routine calms me. I’m going to read and focus on school and forget that boy ever existed.”

She argues for a bit, but eventually I get her to leave. But I don’t study—the hollow feeling inside won’t let me focus. Too upset to study, I lie on my bed and let the tears fall.

Twenty-Six

Deja

Iblock Brandon on my phone and notify my friends that he’s been kicked out of my house and is to be avoided. They push for details, but I tell them nothing. I figure the truth will trickle through the grapevine eventually.

So, I’m shocked when I get to school and find him waiting for me by my locker. He looks rested and based on what he’s wearing, a black Balmain t-shirt under a soft and drapey sweat suit, he must have spent the night at Rourke’s.

“Didn’t you land on your feet,” I quip, pushing past him to open my locker.

“Can we talk? I need to explain.”

“Let me guess? The drugs weren’t yours, you were holding them for a friend.”

He can’t respond because we both know the drugs were his.

“We have something special, Deja. I’ve never felt this way about anyone. You can’t just throw it away.”