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“I know, but…”
“And it didn’t work out. On the bright side, at least this one didn’t drag me down a long two-year fuck-buddy relationship. But it’s going to take me some time to get over it, okay?”
She nods, biting her lip. There’s more she wants to say; I can tell. Ever the commentator, my friend, Everly. There is not a matter, public or private, that she can keep her opinions away from. It’s a good thing she’s my best friend or I swear, I’d get really sick of the way she thinks she knows best all the time.
“I wish you didn’t have to get over it though.”
“Yeah, me too,” I mumble so quietly she probably didn’t even hear it. “But as it turns out, dating a twenty-year-old student can’t work out for all of us.”
“Pax has put you through a lot less than Cullen put me through.”
“And you chose to stick it out. I, on the other hand, am not going to test fate again. Pax doesn’t want to be vulnerable and open up to people, and I don’t really want to reach back into that lion’s den just to get hurt. We’re both just trying to protect ourselves, so I guess we have a lot in common after all.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, reaching across the table to touch my hand. “You know I love you.”
I send her a smile, forcing a look on my face that doesn’t scream desperation and hopelessness, but I can’t seem to shake this feeling. What I felt with Pax was something I hadn’t felt with a guy before, and maybe it all happened too fast, and maybe I should take Everly’s advice and start dating people my own age, but the idea of dating at all is out of the question. I need to get over this heartbreak first.
My week with Pax was a whirlwind, and it ended as fast as it started, making it hurt that much more.
13
PAX
By some miracle, I got to keep my job. My boss showed up that night so relieved that I wasn’t dead that he didn’t fire me or throw much of a fit about the fire. He pretty much let me in on the fact that he knew I was secretly sleeping in the garage, but since I never left a mess or made it too obvious, he didn't bother saying anything. I knew the space heater was a stupid thing to use in the shop in the first place.
After the fire, I got a call from Cullen, who not-so-nicely threatened that if I didn’t take his girlfriend up on the offer of staying at their house, he would report it to the coach. It’s not like I’d be punished for being without a home, but it would get messy. And even though I don’t know much about Ayers, I know him enough to know he’s been through shit too and probably hates pity as much as I do. If not more.
And it hasn’t been bad. I’m never home anyway. I work late, study at the library until they close, and by the time I sneak into the house, it’s dark and their bedroom is quiet. Thank God.
I haven’t spoken to Thomas either. I sneak into his class, do my work, and sneak out. I’m too mortified by what I did to him that night to even look him in the eye. I can’t take it back and I can’t make it right, but I hope he at least knows I hate myself for it now. That was the cruelest I’ve ever been in my life. Not only did I blame him for the fire and for mebeing gay, but I literally blamed him for making me happy for a split second in time.
What the actual fuck?
And I knew my mistake almost immediately. I was just angry that night, letting my mouth run when I should have just kept it shut, let the whole thing pass, and worked through it all the next day. Because when I woke up the next morning, I regretted every last stupid thing I said.
Richards is talking to Hailey when I walk into English class. There’s an empty spot next to him, so I quickly take the seat, but he doesn’t greet me right away. He’s been acting weird ever since the fight when he saw me with Thomas in the locker room.
Not bad, just weird.
He doesn’t rip on me anymore. No more calling me ugly or cracking jokes about my face. None of the guys do, and it’s driving me nuts. It’s like they’re walking on eggshells around me, and I just want everything to go back to normal. Be the same assholes they were before.
When Thomas walks into class, I notice he’s looking a little more disheveled than normal. His pants have wrinkles at the bottom, and his shirt is unbuttoned at the top. There are bags under his eyes, like he’s not sleeping, and instead of greeting the class with that charismatic smile, he just walks in and finds me with his eyes. After giving me a quick, tense glance, he looks away and doesn’t look at me again for the rest of the class.
The sooner this semester is over, the better.
This time after Thomas stares at me, I glance sideways, noticing Mason staring at me too.
Great. Just great.
As if I didn’t already want to be invisible.
The rest of the day drifts by in a mindless blur, and at practice, I almost lose my mind when no one says shit to me after I blow the worst scrimmage in the history of rugby. In the locker room, I toss my bag harshly against the floor after my shower, turning around to find Mason standing by the door, staring at me.
“What?” I snap.
“Nothin.” He shrugs as he moves to the sink and starts washing his hands. “You okay, man?” he asks without looking at me.
“I’m fine.”
