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What am I doing?
Am I actually thinking about meeting him?
I shouldn’t. It’s a horrible idea, and I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him. I’ve been working out lately, but that’s still not very far.
But we both know I’m going there tonight anyway.
And we both know neither one of us is missing this night.
“Shit,” I mumble, and I keep walking. Soon I’m a little out of breath, and I slow down. My chest tightens a little, but I close my eyes and keep breathing. It’s not quite an asthma attack just yet. It’s more like, my body is warning me that if I keep pushing myself, I’m going to have another one.
Lately, it seems like my flare-ups are growing more frequent. My doctor says it’s because of stress, which I keep adamantly denying. She doesn’t believe me, and she’s smart not to.
Like my friends say, I’m a bad liar.
When I get back to school, I go to my dorm and up into my bedroom. I’ve got a single room this year. All of the seniors do. The longer you’re at Crescent Academy, the more you start to value your privacy, so it’s definitely offered as a sort of right-of-passage. You put in your time at the school and then you’re rewarded with a single room. I still have to share a bathroom with the girl next door, but I don’t care. I get my own bed and my own dresser and my own space to just do nothing at all.
It’s fine.
Once I’m in my bedroom, I change into a clean skirt and a tight, low-cut shirt. It shows off my breasts and my waist, and perhaps most importantly, it’s comfortable. I grab a necklace off my dresser and put that on, too. I’m not allowed to wear jewelry when I’m attending class, so evenings and weekends are kind of my time to shine.
“Now what am I going to do about you?” I hold out my stupid skirt from this afternoon, regretting that I was so hasty with wiping my hands on it. The thing about our school uniforms is that they’re absolutely shitty.
There’s a knock on the bathroom door and then Hannah pops her head in.
“Hey,” she says. “I thought I heard you come in.”
Hannah and I share a bathroom. It’s only accessible from one of our bedrooms. We don’t really interact a lot unless we accidentally get locked out of our bedroom and need to go in through the other person’s entrance, but she’s nice enough. She’s clean and tidy and she restocks the toilet paper when she uses it.
“What’s up?” I ask, still eyeing my skirt.
“A bunch of us are going to Toby’s tonight if you want to join.”
I sigh.
Yeah, I’d love to go, but I’ve kind of got this...thing.
How do I tell her why I’m shooting her down?
“I’d love to,” I say honestly.
“But?”
“But I’ve got a fuckton of homework.”
It’s a lie.
“I totally get it,” she says, smiling sympathetically. “Well, if you change your mind, Jared’s band is playing.”
“I’ll look for you if I make it,” I tell her.
“Say my name at the door and they won’t charge you a cover.”
“Got it.”
She goes back through the bathroom and I’m alone once again. Maybe I should just go to Toby’s. It’s this cool little 18+ bar where local bands are always playing. The bartenders are strict as fuck and there’s no way I can buy a drink there, but I can go drink a diet soda and listen to music and just forget.
Only I know what tonight is, and there’s no forgetting.
