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That’s Xavier’s cue to finish me off.
“I did until I pulled out.”
There’s a hemorrhage where my heart used to be now.
And I can’t stop the bleeding.
I slap him for the third time in a matter of weeks. Difference is, this slap emanates from a place of hate. Xavier seems unfazed, his eyes still set on something in the distance.
“Go to hell,” I hiss before booking it to the door.
Once upon a time, I had a dream the boy with the pretty blue eyes chose the nerd over the cheerleader…
Then I woke up.
* * *
I’m on my knees in aisle six less than thirty minutes later.
I drove straight to the library after Xavier mentioned his confession. Had to feed Dia some excuse about having forgotten something at work and left her waiting in the car. Thank God I can sneak into the library whenever I want. There’s no way I could’ve survived waiting until tomorrow.
On edge, I yank the poetry book off the shelf and flip through the pages until I find it.
The confession.
Strangely, the sticky note isn’t what catches my eye.
It’s the name of the poem above it.
I had no time to hate.
I analyzed this very poem in my paper for Ms. Callahan’s class. The whole poem basically revolves around how “hating” is a royal waste of time. Emily Dickinson, the author, inspires the reader to live a life full of love because said life is too short. There’s a cruel irony to Xavier leaving his confession on this specific page.
Why?
Because it says the opposite.
