Page 80 of Until Him

I make it through class and lab mostly intact, but when I get home to my apartment, the careful façade I’ve held up all day breaks down a little. Images of Logan jogging back to his friends infiltrate my mind.

How he took his place at their table and that girl just plopped down on his lap again.

He didn’t push her off either.

He just wrapped his arms around her.

That could have been me, if I’d been brave enough.

Instead, I’d peeked out from behind a building and watched it all, and then tortured myself by replaying it endlessly in my head after.

I’m such an idiot. When Logan appeared at my apartment looking for tutoring that first day, I should have just told him I’d tutor him for a fee. Not that I needed the cash—I still have the payout from my mom’s life insurance policy which easily pays for my living expenses and tuition—but I should have been a little less cocky and not bargained with sex.

But I let my ego win. I wanted the upper hand—the power—when it came to someone like him, and for a few days, it worked. It had felt good having control over the situation, over someone who in the past could have easily hurt me. But now, the only person who has hurt me, is me. I’m so utterly lost and despondent. He’s taken over my heart and my mind, and pushing him away like this is tearing me apart little by little.

I’m not sure what will be left of me at the end of this semester.

I know for a fact I won’t be whole anymore.

My journal sits next to me on the bed, and I roll the pencil between my fingers, itching to write it all down. How I’m feeling, how I’m breaking.

How I’m fucking miserable without him.

Curie jumps into my lap, purring gently. She must feel my distress because she’s being incredibly sweet.

I pet her soft back and she closes her eyes.

“What am I supposed to do?” I mutter, but Curie has no answer. She’s off to dreamland. So I just sit in my apartment, counting down the minutes until Logan arrives, writing endless incoherent sentences until there’s a knock on the door.

I lurch to my feet without thinking, Curie making a mad jump off my lap as I stumble toward it.

I wrench the door open and—what the mother-fucking-fuck?

“What the hell?” I ask, seeing my dad standing on the other side of my door. “I didn’t call you for a reason.”

“I know. I know, but I just want to talk,” he says, running a hand through his hair. He looks a little thinner than the last time I saw him, and his face looks pale.

“I don’t have anything to say to you.”

I start to close the door in his face when he blurts, “I’m dying.”

My entire body freezes, my hand tightening on the door handle.

“I’m dying, Theo. And I just needed you to know.” He runs a hand down his handsome face and meets my wide-eyed stare.

A ringing has started in my ears and the room starts to tilt, because even though he’s been a shit dad, he’s still my dad.

Isn’t that how it goes? No matter how awful and belittling they are, there is always a sliver of hope living deep inside of you that burns for their love and acceptance.

I’ve lived with this my whole life.

Hating him and yet yearning for something he’ll never give me.

“I know we haven’t spoken in years, and that’s my fault…” He lets out a long exhale. “But I was hoping we could rectify that with the little time I have left.”

“How long?” I choke out, unable to fully comprehend what is being said.

“A few months.”

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