by Blair, E. K.
How the hell am I ever supposed to leave Trent behind when he grew roots inside me? Roots that remain even when he’s gone. There’s no point of pushing him away when he’s forever with me.
Maybe I was wrong.
Maybe my skies are painted in his stars for a reason—a reason perhaps I should pay attention to. There’s no question that he became my center of peace, my most calming place in the world. So, why am I trying to avoid the very pain that’s found its home within me?
I pick up my cell phone and then hesitate as I try to avoid all the reasons this is a bad idea. Somehow, I’m able to push those thoughts aside long enough to tap his name and send the call through.
Each ring jostles my heart, sending it into overdrive as my anticipation of hearing his voice grows. Eventually, the ringing stops, and his voice mail picks up. My heart comes to a stop, dropping down a few ribs lower as I end the call and toss the phone aside.
Blue devils return, dumping their despair all over me again. Perhaps him not answering is a sign—the universe telling me that letting him go was the right thing to do.
I would’ve never been enough for him. He was too good for me.
Lying back down, I do everything I can to keep him out of my thoughts, but no matter how long I stare at my ceiling, I can’t help but wonder what he’s doing in this very moment.
TRENT
Five months.
That’s all she gave before giving up on me.
Never has my heart ached the way it has since she ended things. I knew better than to get involved with her or anyone for that matter, so I take responsibility for my own pain as well. For the first time in my life, I handed myself over to another person, trusting that I was doing the right thing, only to wind up hurt—wallowing in sadness like a pussy. Heartbreak is a bitch, and it’s no joke. I can’t even explain the depression I’m unable to get out from underneath.
I miss her.
I miss every goddamn thing about her.
She let me get used to how it felt to be loved, and she gave it to me in the most perfect way. There was no avoiding falling for her, it was as if she were created for me to love, and now she’s gone.
Days melt together, pushing time forward, yet I’m stuck as the world moves all around me. I’m in the eye of an unrelenting hurricane. For now, I sit idle while vicious storms brew from every direction, and it’s only a matter of time before the storm closes in on me.
I heard her voice the other day—it was a jackknife to my gut. She stopped by to pick up Ady, and I hid in my room like a coward because I didn’t trust myself to see her and not do everything possible to convince her to be with me.
Desperation blows ass, but that’s where she has me trapped.
I hate that she thinks so poorly of herself, but it isn’t as if I don’t understand why—I do. The girl has gone through a lot. Life hasn’t been gentle with her, but I thought I was doing everything I could to prove that I was her tether, her constant. In the end, she turned all that against me. She let self-doubt take her hand and pull her away from me because she believed she wasn’t enough.
But she was.
I can’t rid myself of her because I’m marked by her, but I’m conflicted if I even want to be. My head has been fucked since she pushed me away, and I want to hate her just to lessen this pain, but I can’t because I love her, and I don’t want to love her because that hurts too.
But how do I unlove a girl like her?
How do I vanquish the memory of her when starving it to death feels like such a sin?
I ponder that question while I sit like a little bitch on my mother’s couch. Jack is here, and to see them making Thanksgiving dinner together irks me. Everything irks me at this point.
“Pull the tampon out, dude.”
“Fuck off, Garrett.”
“Boys,” my mother calls from the dining room. “Let’s eat.”
I spend the next hour pushing food around my plate and listening to my mother’s wedding plans before I ditch out and head up to my room. Lying down, I get stoned and lose myself in memories of having Kate in this bed with me.
Fuck, that girl was every version of amazing.
My cellphone rings in my back pocket, and when I pull it out, I see her name. The letters feel like nails driving through me.
The ringing only serves to reopen wounds that refuse to heal and remain in a constant state of tenderness.
When the phone goes silent, I close my eyes, only to reawaken in December, staring at the same ceiling and thinking the same thoughts. It’s Christmas morning, and my mom is blasting obnoxious holiday music downstairs.
“Fuck me,” I groan to myself.
Looking out the window, I find a heavy blanket of gray clouds in the sky, giving the illusion of a cold wintery day.
Was she an illusion too?
She left a gift for me at the condo last week.
I threw it away.
Strength abandons me when my phone chimes with a text.
It’s from her.
Kate: Merry Christmas.
Knowing her fingers typed out the message only a minute ago, the very fingers she used to cling on to me with, rips my heart open. It bleeds the fuck out all over again, forcing me to numb the pain she just inflicted. I hit my vape pen, get high, and throw on a T-shirt before heading downstairs.
Dragging myself into the kitchen, I pour myself a cup of coffee, and when my mom notices my stoned, bloodshot eyes, she gives me a smile dripping with pity and hugs me.
“You’re going to be okay,” she encourages softly while she holds on to me for a few more seconds. “The first broken heart always hurts the worst.”
I spend the rest of the day on the couch, getting drunk off the spiked cider Jack made and staring mindlessly into the Christmas tree.
Jack offers me a distraction when he turns the television onto a James Bond movie marathon. We shoot the shit while one movie bleeds into another, and when my phone chimes again, I see it’s a text from Micah followed by a photo.
Micah: Am I crazy?
I then click on the photo to see an impressive diamond on Ady’s left ring finger.
Me: No shit! Is this for real?
Micah: Yeah, man. I’m going to marry this girl.
Me: Congrats, brother.
As happy as I am for the two of them, I can’t disregard the bitterness staining the back of my tongue. It seems everyone is moving on and making plans. We graduate college in May, and I don’t have anything to look forward to because I’m still stuck in this turnstile of misery.
Memories of Kate follow me everywhere I go: from my bed in Tampa to my bed in Miami where I now sit and fight the urge to call her. Goddamn, today is a tough one, and all I can think about is how badly I want to hear her voice, talk to her, and ask if she’s in as much pain as I am.
A part of me hopes that she is, that she’s still suffering and can’t stop thinking about me. If she is, then maybe we still have a chance. I don’t make the call, though, because I’m scared I’ll find out that she’s happy and resolute in her decision.
I wish school would fucking start back up; I really need the distraction.
A knock on my door pulls me out of my thoughts.
“Yeah,” I say before Ady steps in. “What’s up?”
She walks over and sits next to me. “You going out tonight?”
“Why? You want to come out with me and have some fun?” I tease, knowing all too well that she is the last person anyone would expect to turn up at a party. “Or are you trying to get rid of me so you and my boy can pound like rabbits and be as loud as you want?”
She slaps my arm. “You’re disgusting!”
“You sure you want to get married? I heard that shit dries up fast once you’re locked down.”
She cocks her head. “Is that all you think about?”
I laugh, but shit, it’s been two months since I got laid, so yeah, it’s been on my mind a lot lately.
“Seriously, though, you
’ve been moping around here like a beaten dog.”
“Nice.”
“You know what I mean,” she says. “It’s New Year’s Eve.”
“So?”
“So . . .” She drags out the word before asking, “What if I told you that I want to go out with you?”
“Micah’s cool with us hooking up?”
“I meant to a party,” she stresses through an amused smile.
“What are you talking about? You never go out to parties.”
“Well, I want to go to one.”
“What’s the catch?”
“No catch,” she tells me before settling on a more serious tone. “I hate seeing you like this.”
“You can thank your friend for that.”
She shoots me a glare and dodges my comment. “Come on. I doubt I’ll make this offer again.”
“Where are we going?”
“Micah said Brody is throwing a party.”
Lifting my brows at her. “You’re really going to hit up one of Brody’s parties?”
“Only if you go with me.” She smiles as if she’s daring me.
I want to tell her to forget it, but I’m also going insane sitting around here with nothing to do when Kate used to occupy so much of my time.
In need of a pick-me-up, I concede, “Okay.”
Her eyes brighten. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, but I’m not taking you anywhere looking like that,” I joke, and she sneers at me while looking down at the sloppy outfit she’s been lounging around in all day. After she leaves to get ready, I hop in the shower and throw on a fresh outfit. Knowing Ady doesn’t drink, I pull a beer out of the fridge, call out, “You’re DD,” and get a head start on the night.
She walks out of her room, wearing a pair of short black shorts and a strappy dark green top, and I give her a wink.
“Stop flirting,” she warns, pointing her finger at me.
“You guys ready?” Micah says as he trails behind her.
“What the fuck?”
Ady looks over her shoulder and then back at me. “What?”
“You didn’t tell me this douche was coming along.”
“You think I’m sending Ady to a party with you—alone?”
“Dude, I’m not into being a third wheel.”
“You’re not,” Ady pipes in. “Micah’s the third wheel.” She takes my hand. “You ready?”
Dropping her hand, I opt to sling my arm around her shoulders while shooting Micah a smirk and taunting, “Sucka!”
The three of us head out, and as Micah drives to Brody’s place, Ady keeps a death grip on his hand. He glances her way and gives her an encouraging grin, but damn, the girl looks tense as shit just to be going to a party.
After he finds a spot to park along the curb, we hop out, but before I go around to the passenger side to open Ady’s door, Micah pulls me aside, saying, “Watch over her.”
I note the worry in his eyes, but I don’t question him—I never have. I’m not blind to the fact that something serious went down with her and that it’s most likely the reason she came running to Miami and has lived with us ever since.
“I got her,” I assure, and he nods before I open the door. Taking her hand, we walk up the sidewalk and I try to ignore how her grip tightens the closer we get. It’s a similar grip Kate used to have on me when situations would make her nervous.
“You’re good,” I encourage as we head inside.
With no intention of letting go, I tuck her under my arm as we push through the crowd of people, stopping short of the kitchen to chat with a group of mutual friends. Ady may not party, but she still runs deep in our circle, and she relaxes into a conversation with some chick Brody has been spending time with lately.
“Here,” Micah says when he hands me a drink, and I’m quick to guzzle it and shove it back into his hand for a refill. “Do I look like your bitch?”
“Yo, man,” Brody hollers over the music. “You made it.”
We clap hands, catch up, and when I get another drink, I take Ady aside to dance like we always used to do in high school, which feels like forever ago. As alcohol dilutes my blood, I’m able to free myself from the weight I’ve been carrying on my shoulders for the past couple of months. In this moment, I actually feel human again. Tossing back another drink, I look down at Ady, who smiles up at me.
“You having fun?” I shout over all the noise.
“I actually am,” she says as if she’s surprised.
As we continue to dance, she appears to be distracted. She keeps skating her eyes around the room and glancing over my shoulder.
“Looking for my replacement?”
She laughs. “No.”
When I turn to see who’s caught her eye, I go still.
“What the fuck is she doing here?” I ask, not taking my eyes off Kate, who’s against the wall hanging out with a small group.
“Don’t be mad,” Ady says from behind me.
Too late.
She stops dancing when I face her. “You fucking set me up?”
“The two of you are miserable without each other,” she defends.
“Yeah, she really looks miserable.”
“Maybe if you just talked to her.”
“Fuck this shit.” I grab Ady’s hand and pull her out of the room and away from Kate because it hurts too much to look at her. “Hey,” I call out when I find Micah at the front of the house. “Here.” I pass her off to him. “I’m out.”
“Trent,” she calls, but I’m not down with this and keep walking. “Trent, wait!” She rushes after me, and when we’re outside, she catches up and reaches for my arm. “I’m sorry.”
I turn around, pissed the fuck off that she’d do some dumb shit like this.
“I’m sorry,” she says again.
“Did she know I was coming?”
She shakes her head with remorse in her eyes. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just—”
“You just what?” I push. “Thought if you got us in the same room everything would go back to how it used to be?”
She shrugs.
“I don’t know what the hell she’s been saying to you, but she let me go. This was her doing, not mine.”
“She’s just scared.”
“Tough shit!”
“Trent.”
Her voice in unmistakable, but it comes with a spiked dagger that immediately impales me, sending a violent pain through my ribs. I turn to find Kate standing on the steps. She’s so beautiful despite the look of disbelief on her face, as if this were the very last place on Earth she’d expect me to be. Suddenly, all the anger is eclipsed by my love for her, which floods my system, preventing me from looking away from the only thing I want. It’s hard enough having to avoid her texts, but to see her standing in front of me, speaking my name, is a completely different battle.
“I’ll let you two talk,” Ady says before scurrying back inside.
Timidly, Kate walks down the steps to where I am, and it takes everything in me not to grab her and tuck her back inside my arms where she belongs.
“Did you get my present?”
“I didn’t open it,” I tell her.
She nods, looking at me with the saddest eyes. “Why won’t you respond to any of my texts?”
I shove my hands into my pockets as a thousand reasons slam into me, and I wish I could look away from her. It’s torture to have her here, but not have her. “I don’t know how to talk to you.”
“I’m still me,” she says, but she isn’t.
She feels different in a way I can’t describe, and I hate it. Hate this tension and space between us.
“I don’t want this,” I admit. “I don’t want to feel this way around you.”
“I don’t either.”
“Then what are we doing?”
She blinks a few times, fighting back her emotions.
“Tell me you’ve come to your senses. Tell me we can stop this shit so we can just be together.”
&nbs
p; Her eyes well with tears that tell me she feels the heartbreak too.
I step closer to her, wanting to touch her, but I don’t. “You know this is bullshit.”
“I can’t,” she says, her voice trembling.
“Can’t what?” Her stubbornness gets under my skin, and I grow frustrated. “What the fuck do you want from me? Just tell me. Whatever it is, I’ll do it. I’ll give you whatever you want.”
“I know you will.”
“Why is me wanting to love you such a fucking problem?”
She blinks and a tear falls.
“Look, I know you’ve been through a lot,” I tell her. “Your ex fucked with your head, but I’m telling you right now, you’re enough and you aren’t taking advantage of me. I swear to god, you aren’t.” She’s headstrong, and I don’t see her budging, which irritates me even more. “Fuck this shit,” I fume. “Fuck this whole white-picket-fence idea you’ve built in your head about how life should be easy and simple and fair. It’s nothing but a glorified cage, and it isn’t always safe, but I swear to you that I am. You have no reason not to trust me. I’m not going to hurt you, Kate.”
“But I’m hurting you.” Tears spill down her face, and when I move in closer, she shuts me out, wrapping her arms across her chest. “I need you to just trust me when I tell you that.”
A swarm of anger rushes over me for how she’s single-handedly ripping my heart out of my chest and throwing it away. I love her so damn much, but fuck if she isn’t pissing me the hell off and making it so that it’s me who needs space from her.
“Go back inside,” I bite harshly before walking away, calling a cab, and going home.
I wish I didn’t love her so hard—embarrassingly hard—but I do. I can’t shake it. I hoped that going back to school would offer me a distraction, but it hasn’t. I stick to my side of campus, never venturing over to where most of her classes are. Everything about her makes me uneasy, and I can’t be myself, I can’t do the things I used to without nerves constantly tormenting me. Everywhere I look, I’m scared I’ll see her. I go surfing, but there’s no enjoyment because I’m too worried she’ll show up. Miami is a large city, but we both run so close to each other that I’m surprised we haven’t crossed paths since the night of the party.
