I braced my hand on the wall of a shower, feeling how solid it was. I needed something to hold me up, brace my shaking body. The hot water coursed down my back, pattering on the floor of the shower. Each little splash said something to me, blurring together until I couldn’t tell them apart.
NotKatienotKatienotKatienotKatie.
“Look, I’m sorry about that. It’s just that I’ve been in love with you for so long and I took my chance.” Ric wasn’t in love with me. Not really. She’d just told herself she loved me so many times that she’d started believing it.
“Go away, Ric.”
“Stryker, I —”
“Just…leave.” I spat the words out through my clenched jaw.
I was being a dick to her, but that was what I did. I was a dick. I pushed people away. It was so much easier than caring.
“Well, um, thanks for…thanks.” Her footsteps retreated and a few moments later my door closed.
I stood in the shower until the hot water turned cold, but I didn’t move. It was like, if I moved, the reality of what I’d done would see me out of the corner of its eye and come rip my throat out. Part of me wished it would so I would stop thinking about it.
When my shivers became too much, I shut off the shower and finally took my pants off and grabbed a towel. I rubbed myself dry, wishing I actually felt clean. My fingers had pruned up from being in the shower so long. Avoiding the couch because it still smelled like sex, I grabbed the bottle of scotch and headed to my bedroom.
I pulled on a pair of boxers, realizing only after I got them on that they were the ones Katie had worn just a few days before. I’d only washed them when her scent had faded, but somehow, I could still almost smell her.
I took another hit off the scotch bottle and lay back on my bed. The apartment was too quiet, but if I put on any music, I would think of her, so I didn’t.
I’d literally tried to fuck my sorrows away, and now it was time to try to drink them away instead. It was no use, because they’d find me eventually, but maybe I could avoid them for a few more hours.
Maybe.
I lit a cigarette, even though I never smoked inside. The glow of it and the haze of the smoke were comforting.
Not. Katie. Not. Katie. Not. Katie.
Katie
I had no doubt in my mind that the second I left the house, my mother would have a scrub brush and a bucket of industrial strength cleaner out quicker than you could say, “Mr. Clean”. That was fine. Next time I was home, I’d do the same thing again. What was she going to do? Scrub my walls every time? Remove all the markers like I was five?
Dad was feeling better and up and about, and gave me a nice long hug before I left.
“Believe in yourself, Katiebug. I know I do.”
Mom’s hug was quick and limp. She was still pissed about the cleaning, but she told me she loved me and I said it back, because, at the end of the day, I did love her.
Kayla had left the day before with Adam because they had to get back to Africa. She’d given me a gigantic hug and said that she was planning to buy a computer so we could Skype. Adam also gave me a hug and a wink and said he’d see me on the flipside. I gave Kayla a look, but she just gazed adoringly at him.
My drive back to school seemed to take longer than normal, and it wasn’t because I drove slower. Or maybe I did, unconsciously. I was more than eager to get back to the dorm, back to my life, or whatever it was now, but there was just one little thing holding me back. Well, one big thing. Named Stryker Abraham Grant.
I had no idea what his parents were thinking when they named him, but for some reason, his name made complete sense.
I turned on the radio, irritated at myself for thinking about him. Why did I feel like I’d just been through another breakup? We weren’t even together. Stryker and I…we weren’t even friends. So why did I feel like I wanted to wallow in misery and never leave my bed again?
Stupid boy. Stupid boy and his stupid blond hair and his green eyes