Page 24 of Antidote

“Ollie,” I breathe. “We need to talk.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “Don’t say it like that.”

I walk toward him, closing the space between us, and drop to my knees between his legs. His hand comes to the back of my head, and he strokes my hair. Part of the problem is that I’m weak for him. I’ve been weak for him for so long that I haven’t had the guts to give him an ultimatum. However, this is it. It’s time. So I hug his waist and bury my face into his stomach, inhaling his vanilla cupcake scent.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Ollie asks, and my stomach flips again. He rarely calls me baby, and it always brings me the same reaction.

“I’m sorry, Ollie.”

I love you, Ollie.

“For what?” He frowns, still not letting go of the pill in his fist. “You’re scaring me.”

“I’ve had enough.” I sit back on my haunches and stare into his blue eyes. They widen, and realization crashes through him, making him shake his head furiously. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t watch you throw your life away.”

“You haven’t even been with me for the past few weeks,” Ollie replies coldly. “I don’t mean anything to you. You just threw me away after the bleachers, and?—”

My stomach swoops. “Is that really what you think?”

“Yes.” He nods once, finally dropping the pill on the bed.

I cup his face and his lower lip trembles. “I can’t watch you get high every day anymore.” Ollie stiffens. “It’s been weeks, Ollie. I can’t keep doing this.”

“Hunter—”

“It’s me or the Oxy,” I say sternly and search his eyes. They flare with anger, and I nod. “Pick. Now.”

“This is ridiculous.” He brushes a hand through his hair. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m serious,” I whisper. “Choose.”

“I can’t.” He shakes his head and purses his lips. “Please don’t make me. I?—”

“Do you love me?” I ask him, even as my voice breaks.

“You know I do.” He strokes my cheek with his thumb. “You know I love you more than anything.”

“So choose me,” I beg him. “Please, choose me.”

There’s a moment of silence, of hesitation, and I nod. He appears regretful, and I just know he’s not choosing me. Only I’m not one to wait around to have my heart broken. So I get up and head for the door.

“I can’t watch you throw your life away.” I say, rubbing a hand down my face. “I’m not going to stick around to watch you kill yourself.”

“Wait.” Ollie gasps. “Please don’t make me, Hunt. Don’t do this.”

“You’ve already made your choice.”

And then I walk out the door and slam it, speed walking through the bathroom and to my room, where I lock the door and lie face-down in my bed. My tears soak my pillow as sobs take over. But I can’t stop; I can’t bring myself to turn off the pain. It’s impossible. I love him too much, and he didn’t even choose me.

He didn’t choose me.

I’ve spent the whole day unpacking my things and organizing them in my old room, where I will be spending my entire summer. Malia, my girlfriend, has been helping me. Her family lives in Boston, but she came home with me to meet my parents. My dad is smitten with her—saying how, at twenty years old, I should be thinking about settling down. I highly disagree, and so does my mom. Speaking of her, she keeps giving me these looks that I can’t decipher. Something between pity and disappointment, and I can’t for the life of me figure out why she’d feel either of those things. But I hate how it makes me feel like I’m crawling out of my skin. I hate disappointing my mom and dad. I can’t fucking stand it. It’s the main reason why I never told them about me and Oliver.

Oliver—sweet, pretty, asshole, Oliver.

With his dark hair and sky-blue eyes. Pouty lips that I used to love kissing, the bottom fuller than the top. And, fuck, just thinking of biting that bottom lip still gets me hard. Except I push it away because I have to.

For the past few years, we’ve done our best to avoid each other. Especially during the summers after the school year is over. It doesn’t help that our bedrooms are next to each other because every night, I have always felt this deep yearning, an ache, a longing pain to crawl into bed with him and forget he didn’t pick me. That he chose drugs over me. That I won’t ever be good enough for him.

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