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“Is that Liam? Tell him to make you hurt. I gotta run, big bro. Quite literally. Love you!” She drags out the last word like she’s done since we were kids.
“Love you, too, Stasi.”
The instant we hang up, Liam puts me through the wringer. I’m left gasping and dripping sweat, regretting my moment of weakness when I asked him to whip me into shape after devouring a basket of chips at the attached pub.
And still, the burn of too many reps isn’t enough of a distraction.
Before I pocket my phone, I check through my messages just in case Z decided to reach out.Nothing. It shouldn’t summon dread to my gut, but it does. I can’t help my worry for him. My inability to shut down this need to care for others definitely isn’t genetic. It was a learned behavior growing up in a toxic environment.
Weights aren’t doing shit to clear my mind. Obviously, I need to push myself more. I need to punish every muscle in my body so I can actually sleep tonight. We have one more day of rest in London, and then we’re on the road to Paris.
Moving over to the treadmill, I stuff in my wireless headphones, then I crank up the speed. I keep my pulse throttled to the max, metal blasting in my ears, hoping to burn off this weird prickling anxiety surfacing in me. That unsettling itch I get when I’m taunted with something new and shiny and consuming and in need of fixing.
I want to text him.
I shouldn’t text him.
I scared him away. Came on too strong.
If he’s interested, he’ll reach out.
The heavy metal vibrating my skull isn’t loud enough, and this damn treadmill isn’t going fast enough, and fuck if I don’t just want to check in on him, even if he doesn’t want to make music together.
My finger smashes down on the speed button. I’m typing out a message to him before I slow to a walk.
Hey, it’s Hail. You know, from Atonement.
Should I scratch that last sentence? I don’t want to come off pretentious. Before I can second guess myself, I hit the send button and wait, aware of Liam’s eyes darting over to me as I check my phone a dozen times.
After twenty minutes of no response, a heavy sigh escapes me. “I’m beat,” I mumble, hitting the stop button on the treadmill and wiping a towel across my sweaty face.
Liam gives a nod. “Catch you in the morning.”
There’s a buzz from my phone in the pocket of my gym shorts. A surge of excitement floods my body. Gripping my phone tightly in my hand, I hurry out the gym door and read over the message from Z in privacy.
Hi Hail from Atonement.
My heart flutters. He responded.What could that mean? Either he’s interested or he pities me, right? God, you better give me the answers, or I’ll be tempted to slingshot myself up to heaven and shake them out of you.
I type out another message as I get into the elevator and mash the button for my floor.
How did your performance go?
Better than expected, thanks.
Glad to hear it.
When I get nothing back from him, I flop down on my hotel bed. Is he mad that I didn’t show up? It didn’t really seem like he wanted me there. Or anywhere near him, to be honest.
Heartbeat accelerating, I type out another message.Sorry I didn’t come. I assumed you needed space away from me breathing down your neck.
Three dots pop up, hover there for a minute, then disappear. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to reason through why I’m so upset by his silence. Because I’ve known him all of a few days, and I’m already in too deep. Because I had hope. Because I’ve been hurt before. Because I give my all to everyone and everything, and it’s never enough.
I’m never enough.
I end up falling asleep, cradling my phone over phantom pains in my chest where my heart was once ripped out by cruel hands.
Eight
