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After hearing his blunt recollection, it feels like all of my organs have fallen out my body and nothing’s left inside me but shame and confusion. I vaguely remember Miles telling me he lost his virginity to Bianca, but it’s foggy like so much of my high school experience is. “I don’t remember. I’m sorry. I don’t.”
“I have a hard time believing you, Shay.” Austin stares at me as though he’s trying to decipher whether I’m a psychopathic liar. His anger is palpable. “You can’t brush off what happened by pretending it didn’t happen.”
This fucking disease. It never ceases to amaze me how much it’s fucked up my life.
Continues to fuck up my life.
I draw in a deep breath, hating that I have to explain myself. Humiliated about what clearly happened between me and Austin. Furious that I’m forced to open up about an illness that dictated so much of my life before I got things under control.
So few people know about my struggles and those who do usually run away screaming. I’m well aware my confession won’t bridge the chasm between me and Austin, but will likely widen it further. And yet, I owe the man a fucking explanation, even if I’m the one who’ll have to deal with the emotional fallout when I’m able to process what I’ve learned tonight.
“Austin, I’m not pretending. Or playing games. Or lying.“ I feel like I’m about to hyperventilate. Then the words tumble from my mouth in a rush, tinged with desperation and fear. “I…I have focal epilepsy. It’s a chronic noncommunicable disease of the brain where seizures create gaps in my memory when my meds aren’t regulated. For the first couple of years after I was diagnosed, I was a mess.”
He leans forward. His expression is a turbulent sea of pain, anger, and confusion. The bitterness in his eyes tears at my heart. “Miles mentioned you have a health condition on the way up here, but I don’t see how it’s relevant in this case. You didn’t have a seizure that night. You got drunk and we fucked. Sounds like you’re making excuses because you’re embarrassed you did it with the gaming geek.”
“Please, let me explain, it’s not that simple,” I find myself pleading, desperate to have someone—anyone—understand me. Even if it’s Austin. “I don’t usually have the type of seizures you see in movies. Mine appear like I’m spacing out. Sometimes for a few seconds, sometimes longer. I’ve been told that I stare off into the distance. In some cases, it appears that I’m alert and I spew a bunch of hurtful garbage. For me, because the seizures originate in a part of the brain that affects my memory, I rarely remember anything. Sometimes the gaps are huge—hours. It’s a real relationship booster, let me tell you.”
The silence stretches between us. A pause loaded with tension. Confusion. I see the moment where understanding begins to bloom in Austin’s eyes. Where recognition dawns and replaces the anger and hurt that has been festering for all these years. “Not long after you woke up and we got dressed, that’s what happened. You had a hundred-yard stare the entire time we were talking.”
Bingo.
And that’s when the gravity of what actually happened between us hits me.
Terrifies me.
What else don’t I remember about high school?
Oh. My. God.
I tuck my legs up under me and bury my face in my arms. I’m so fucking ashamed. It’s moments like this that make it hard for me to live with myself. “I’m sorry. So, so sorry. I don’t know what to say.” I can’t look at him. No wonder he’s been so weird with me. The man has been inside my body and I didn’t even know it. “I was young, scared, and confused. The meds I was on also made me act so irrationally. Sometimes, I had no control of my actions, my words…”
“I had no idea, Shay.” Though I can’t see him, I can tell Austin’s earlier anger is entirely diffused. His voice is soft and choked with emotion. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I wish I had known. All these years I thought you did me dirty, when it was me who took advantage of you. God. I feel positively sick about it. I cared about you. So much. I really, truly did.”
His words are surprising, but mean everything to me. I look up to see if he’s sincere. Vulnerability and regret envelop his entire body. Tears continue to stream down my face as I nod and reach for him. He meets me halfway and we cling to each other in a turmoil of regret, loss, and apology for the years of misunderstanding.
We spend the next hour talking. His recollection is detailed. Insightful. As painful as it is to dive deep into a part of the evening I have no memory of, at least it clears up the fog of confusion that has shrouded his opinion of me for too long.
“So, did I come?” I poke Austin in the chest, hoping to lighten the mood.
“Uh.” He buries his face in his hand. “I was a virgin. I think I shot my wad the second I realized I was all the way in.”
It makes me smile, at least.
“I was a bit, uh, sex-crazy back in high school.” We’re sitting side by side on the sofa now. “I was so angry at my diagnosis. I wanted to feel good, so I had a lot of sex. You were so sweet back then, you didn’t stand a chance with me or the friends I hung out with.”
Austin laughs, a sound I realize I haven’t heard terribly often. “God, Shay. You were the most beautiful girl at Lake Washington High School. I crushed on you so hard and had no game. When I woke up that morning and realized what happened—for me, it was a dream come true.”
Internally, I wince. I know exactly what it’s like to have a dream ripped away by someone you love with cruel words and a crass attitude. My heart aches for Austin and I’m sorry for any role I played in it.
“Bianca issued a five-star flirt alert for you. I remember that much.” I gaze at his handsome face and realize that he hasn’t changed much. Underneath the hurt, Austin is kind and smart. Now, he’s also hot as hell.
Austin winces. “God, will you please tell me what a flirt alert means? Ever since high school, I thought you and your friends were using that term to make fun of me. When Cecily mentioned it earlier it sent me back to that insecure place.”
“You think?” I raise an eyebrow. “God, Austin. It was just a stupid rating system we came up with to conceal that we had a rating system.” I touch his arm. “So, uh…Bianca was being serious. If I remember correctly—and we know my memories aren’t reliable so take this with a grain of salt—she thought you were hot. She said she wanted to pop your cherry.”
He’s horrified. “You talked about my cherry?”
“Do guys even have a cherry?” I tap my finger to my lip. “Seems like the wrong reference.”
