Page 103 of Toxic Wishes

Bodie must have been asleep for a while now, but why was the light turned on upstairs? Did Colt’s mom forget to turn it off? I’ve only been upstairs a few times. One time, I snooped around and just wanted to check the place out, and another time, Colt had some of his clothes in my laundry, so I folded them and placed them on his bed to put away. I placed my foot on the first step. My ribs tightened as I found it hard to breathe suddenly.

Should I go up there? What if I walk in on them?

At the same time, I couldn’t hear anyone talking, laughing, or making sex noises. I took another step and another until I reached the top of the upstairs. The light was turned off in Bodie’s room. And so was Colt’s. But the door was cracked open in the other room, the one that was always locked, and I could see a light shining through. Maybe Nora grabbed something in there and forgot to shut the light off. I’ve never been in that room, so I assumed it was a storage room or something.

I slowly reach the door, placing my hand on the knob. I’m not sure why my heart was beating so fast. Maybe it's the couple of shots I took in my car when I got home. Or the thought of finding Naomi and Colt in there sound asleep, making me feel like an idiot for my hopeful thoughts about Colt and me.

I cracked open the door to make sure no squeaky noises leaked through. When I didn’t hear anything, I continued to open the door. I cover my mouth as soon as a wince leaves my chest. Records, piles of records posted up against the wall, along with an old vintage record player, the same one I saw in Blake's room, caught my immediate attention. I looked around and saw the walls filled with posters of rock bands, musicians, and even some well-known rap singers you couldn’t deny made history, like Jay-Z. There were a couple tiny pinup posters of naked women with the weed flower covering their private parts. It felt so weird being in this room. Like I was taken back in time and felt his presence again. Tears pricked my eyes, and my breathing evened out as memories of peanut butter cookies and bench-lunch talks flooded my mind. The room was well overdue for a cleaning. I could see the inch-thick dust from here piled on all the furniture. Despite the lack of TLC, the room was given, it was so Blake.

“I miss him,” I whisper, barely audible, even to myself. The only thing that looked out of place in this room was Colt, passed out on Blake's twin bed.

Jesus, he was tall, abnormally tall. His feet practically hung off the bed. His carved jaw was square and hard as stone. His tousled hair begged for a tug, and I wondered what he was like when he was younger—before being drafted to the NFL, before Blake's death.

Did you fuck him?

Colt's words come to life the first conversation we ever had about Blake in the coffee shop. I told Colt no, and that was the truth. My truth anyway, but there were some things I should have mentioned. I had kissed Blake, and he had kissed me more than once, and in another life, one where my parents didn’t act like they hated me, and Blake hadn’t been devoured by his addiction, maybe we could have been more. Perhaps we would be getting married this year on our twenty second birthdays, like he promised.

As I watched Colt sleep, he looked split down the middle of a strong, famous athlete battling a hidden depression no one saw. He only gave the world the happy, put-together self. The strong athlete. A healthy, successful NFL player. I know how hard that was to do because I did it myself. More often than not, it seemed like. In a way, suffering from an eating disorder was no different. People saw what they wanted to see. Perspective was everything, but I lost one Killian brother. I was not going to watch another one ruin himself. Thank God it’s just Colt I had to worry about and not Josh too.

His chest moved up and down as I tiptoed over to grab the book lying on his chest. I didn’t think he read books, but I realized it wasn’t just any book as I got closer. It was my zodiac book—the Secret Language of Relationships. I’m unsure why, but I look behind me before gently picking the book up to see what he could have looked up in my zodiac book. When I flip the book over, a small smile crosses my face. At the top of the page was my birthday and his in big black numbers.

November 3-11, week of Depth

January 23-30 The week of Genius

Nothing Short of Amazing

Strengths: Miraculous, productive, exploratory

Weakness: frightening, suspicious, uncomprehending

Best: love

Worst: marriage.

I looked up. Love was our best attribute together? I would have never thought to think that since he was an air sign. Intrigued now, I read on to find out how our relationship would be, according to the stars.

When these two combine their energies, the results can be nothing short of miraculous. Indeed, the chemistry here is somewhat unfathomable, for the partners themselves have difficulty figuring out how such completely different approaches can yield such wonderful results. Aquarius I’s don’t always understand Scorpio II’s that well, seeing them as people who always do things the hard way. Meanwhile, Scorpios II’s are usually amazed when Aquarius I does something in half the time it would have taken them, but they remain a little suspicious of their partner's methods. These two should not delve too deeply into such mysteries since things often work best when their underlying mechanisms stay hidden. Love affairs here can be highly romantic. Scorpio IIs usually solidify in control of these relationships. However, since they generally find their Aquarius lovers thoroughly, captivating, and charming, they can easily be manipulated, and their dominance is not oppressive. Should the romance lead to marriage, Scorpio II’s find their spouse troublingly flight and unable to share their serious approach to things. But few personalities in the year can take their minds off their career worries when they get home after a hard day’s work as easily as fun-loving Aquarius I’s.

ADVICE: Get back to the real world occasionally. Be careful of your effects on others. Don't succumb to the dark side. Use your energies constructively.

I closed my eyes, feeling these words enter my soul. There was no way I could act like I didn’t see those words on this page. Acting like they didn’t exist. I knew this dynamic pull I was feeling wasn’t all in my head, but the question was, did he feel it, too? Or did he look at me as another piece of ass that he could conquer?

When these two combine their energies, the results can be nothing short of miraculous.

And there you have it, ladies and gentlemen. Colt Killian and I would be a walking miracle if we got together and made this work. Or getting together would feel miraculous since it mentioned energies. I bring my hand to my lips, remembering our kiss. The one that jolted me from my dormant sex life. I shake the idea out of my head. As much as I loved the thought of Colt being all about me, I knew that would never happen. He’s a hot NFL player who could have anyone. I was a regular girl who worked hard at everything she did and never relied on her looks to gain anything from anyone. He would eventually get tired of me and my ambition, it says so right here.

Two things I learned about Colt Killian just no, his birthdate and that he is having a hard time letting go of Blake Killian and the guilt that came along with his death.

I slowly placed the book back on his chest, and the second the book touched his body, I knew it was a bad idea because his eyes shot open. He quickly grabbed my hand as if trying to catch an intruder. He held my gaze as he held my hand in his wrist, his piercing blue eyes flickering between mine.

“I….I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. I saw the light on, and I…” trailing off, he leans up, still holding my hand. He takes his other hand to remove the book from his chest and places it on the bed.

His lip curls and I’m not sure if it’s a snarl or a smirk, but I’m going to go with a snarl since his blue eyes look molten.

“Colt, I’m sorry I didn’t know this room was-” I hesitate. I want to say Blake’s name, but I’m afraid that may set him off even more now. “I just wanted to make sure you-you.”

“I was what?” He seethes.

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