Page 61 of Antidote

Still, I’m grateful to have had the opportunity in the first place. The professor put his trust in me, and I didn’t let him down. I didn’t disappoint anyone the way I usually do. Even Jamie said he was proud of me, making me feel warm inside. Not because I like him that way, but because it had been so long since anyone praised me for any reason. I was beginning to think all I could do in this lifetime was be a fuck up.

Last night was surreal, and I’ll never forget it. Except, right now, as I lie down in this bed, I’ve never felt more alone. Jamie offered to come hang out with me, and like the lovesick fool that I am, I declined. Now I’m here alone while Hunter is at a party, probably fucking Malia or someone else. I’m not stupid; he won’t stop just because I’m here, and I won’t ask him to. I’m not going to show him how much I care, especially since he already has an idea anyway. But that idea is just the tip of the iceberg, for he doesn’t know what’s below it. He doesn’t know the depth of my love for him.

I’ve left my bedroom door open as an invitation for him for the last three nights now, and I’m not talking about unlocked. I mean wide open, where he could come in here without barriers. Only he hasn’t made a move. I know because it feels like I haven’t slept the entire time.

He’s come close, though. I’ve focused on his hushed footsteps right in my doorway. Yet instead of facing him, I pretend to be asleep—pretend I don’t feel his longing from across the room. But the way I feel, it isn’t enough to pull him in; all it’s done is push him away. So I pretend—for both of our sakes.

The front door opens, and Hunter stumbles in loudly, throwing something on the ground. I lie on my side facing the door and shut my eyes, evening out my breaths. The light in the living room is on, shining into my bedroom. This apartment is such a small space that it’s hard not to know what’s happening, even on the opposite side of it.

I listen to him exhale loudly and curse under his breath. His footsteps stop, and I feel him staring at me. He usually does it in the darkness where he thinks I won’t notice him in the doorway, never in plain light. And that’s what brings me some courage to open my eyes.

We make eye contact, his face impassive, showing no emotion. It makes me nervous about having a stare-down with him, but also, a thrill runs through me at the prospect that he will come in. He doesn’t move, though. He doesn’t even twitch as he leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms over his chest, his biceps bulging. I try not to stare at them, instead I lick my lips. His eyes follow the movement and I’m fucking gone for him already, wishing and praying he’d come in so I can show him how much I’ve missed him.

“It’s creepy to stare, Hunter.” The urge to smirk is strong, yet I keep it contained. Rather, I focus on making sure my voice is calm, when all it wants to do is tremble due to his proximity.

“Don’t call me that.” His face doesn’t change, and neither does his stance.

“What would you like me to call you?” Please don’t do this. Please. Please. Please don’t break my heart even more.

“Hunt is fine.”

I ignore him, because that’s not what I wanted him to say. “What are you doing here?” I say instead, knowing he’s too much of a coward to come in.

Silence greets me.

“I’m going to need you to spell this out for me, Hunter,” I say gruffly, sitting in bed. “Because from here, it looks a lot like senior year.” It looks like the time in our lives when you let me love you—freely and without barriers. It looks like the time in our lives when our secrets were sacred, and so were our moments together.

“And if it is?”

My stomach drops, and I take a moment to think. “Come here, Hunter.”

Come here and let me love you again. Come here and stop this cycle between us. Come here and put me back together. Fill this fucking hole in my chest. Fill the void in yours.

But Hunter just stays silent, running a hand down his face.

“Or better yet,” we make eye contact and his breath hitches, “Get out.”

“You know you don’t want that,” Hunter says with a frown.

“What do you know about what I want?” I taunt, knowing damn well I should probably keep my mouth shut. But the thing about self-preservation? It’s nonexistent when it comes to him.

“Because it’s not what I want either.”

There’s another moment of silence, because that’s clearly all we can have lately. Silence—nothing. We don’t know where we stand, and we keep doing this awkward dance with each other, where we keep stepping on each other’s toes. I’m tired of it, it’s exhausting and it hurts. But I can’t seem to stop; I just keep hoping for more songs since it’s better than not having his attention at all.

Hunter closes the distance between us and kneels in front of me. He stares into my eyes with so much pain it knocks the breath right out of me, yet I don’t let it stop me. I think it’s been a long time coming.

“What do you want, Hunter?” I whisper. “You want to fuck me? You want to bury me underground from an overdose? You want to cuddle me on the couch? You want to sob on my shoulder? You want me to pay for all my mistakes? Which one is it? Don’t you get tired of yourself? Don’t you get tired of constantly fighting with who you are?”

He shakes his head, confusion marring his features. But he doesn’t say anything.

“Leave,” I growl. “Please.” I try again. He’s going to break me, I know it, and I’m not going down without a fight.

His forehead comes to the bed and he takes a deep breath. When he lifts his head, his eyes are pleading with me. “Don’t do this.”

“No.” I shake my head and stare at the ceiling, my tears threatening to spill and make me look stupid. “You don’t do this. You’ve made it clear time and time again that you hate me, that you don’t want me. You’re just trying to hurt me—you want me to hate myself. Well, guess what, Hunter. It’s not happening.”

I feel his eyes on me, but I don’t dare deviate from the popcorn ceiling. I begin to count the dots just to get my heart rate to go down, and he huffs from his place beside me. “Just this once,” he pleads. “Let me have this—let us have this.”

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