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“No you can’t,” I whisper.
I set my phone down on the counter. Through the haze of Fent, I feel a sharp ache in my chest.
I walk into the living room and look at the stairs. I’m not going back up. Don’t know if I could... walk up.
I strip off my shirt. Take my time pulling it over my head and sliding my arms out. It’s weird to not be able to feel my skin. It feels good. I rub my hair. My face. Something to remember me by. I laugh.
I drift over to the TV. The DVDs... I never finished. It’s okay. I feel like it’s okay now.
Truman bounds over, moving faster than my dizzy eyes can follow. Then he’s by me, warm and heavy. My throat is tight and sore as I rub his ears, then lean down and pull his body against mine.
“Thank you,” I whisper hoarsely.
I kiss his head, and then again. I scoop my keys up and walk slowly down the hall.
I can’t believe I’m really here now. Game over.
All I have left is my secret. And a flame of pride, because I never let her near it.
I get into my car, and I start driving. I don’t think of what I’ll do or say. I don’t think of anything but him.
I need to see him. Need to hear it from his mouth.
I’m speeding down a rural highway, en route to his house, when I have to dim my brights for a large SUV.
It looks like Kellan’s Escalade.
THE NEED FOR CLEO is an agony. I’m so numb, the only place I really feel it is my chest. It’s like a fire in there. The deadened parts of me can sense the heat. My throat and face. My throat aches. My shoulders and my arms and everything feels... bad. My fingers rub the leather of the wheel. I have this urge to shift my legs, but I remember that I’m driving.
I fix my eyes on the dark road and I think desperately of where I’d find her. I want to see her one last time. I know I can’t... but it’s so fucking hard. Denying myself this.
As I drive, I think of what she’d say if she knew. What she might do.
I don’t know. I do know.
She would hold me. It would feel good.
Today was bad.
I can’t keep doing this.
My eyes blur.
Even through the haze drifting around me, I know what I have to do. Before he comes. Robert.
The car is bumping over the shoulder before I realize that my hands must have slipped. I hit the brakes. The Escalade fish-tails in the grass. Jolts to a stop.
I lean over the steering wheel.
Cleo. I can only whisper. I’m so tired.
I lift my head and try to will my brain to think. I can’t pass out here. Need... to keep driving. But—no wrecks. I don’t want a wreck that hurts someone.
I sift through the haze. Cleo. Not at the sorority house. My lips curve a little as I picture her sitting in her car atop the parking deck. She would wait for me there. It would be a fantasy.
The fire is back.
It wakes me up.
