Page 155 of Collided

I saw Dad last night. He was at a bar with friends who looked as drunk as him. But the worst was the sight of him slapping a woman’s ass, and then kissing her. It was disgusting. I can’t believe he so easily cheated on Mom. I watched it happen right in front of my eyes.

However, when he looked at the window of the bowling alley, I swear it was like my soul left my body.

Luckily, I got home before him. He came in late, and I heard him fumbling around the place, probably looking for a bottle. But he didn’t make it up to my room. Perhaps, he couldn’t. Whatever the reason was, I’m glad. It’d be a lie if I said I had a good sleep. I haven’t had a good sleep since our first encounter a month ago. He haunts me in my reality and dreams. A couple of hours is all I can manage which leaves me tired all day.

I’m at the library, reading the fifth Harry Potter book, but I can barely concentrate. I fight back another yawn as I look out the window for Heath’s car. He’s supposed to be here by now. It’s ten a.m.

Maybe he isn’t going to come.

He probably has something to do.

He could be asleep.

What if he forgot?

Doubts pop into my brain and the sadness grows.

My eyes trace the words on the page, but I can’t pay attention to a single word.

I read it again, but it doesn’t matter. Heath is all I can think about.

A horn blares outside and my head turns to the window.

Right across the street, leaning against the black McLaren is Heath. Black shirt, jeans, and Converse, he’s dressed the same as every day, yet the sight of him makes me forget how to breathe. He’s so breathtakingly handsome.

He peeks inside and our eyes meet. We stare at each other for what feels like minutes, but actually, it’s only a couple of seconds.

He tilts his head to the side and gestures for me to come out.

Grabbing my bag, I throw in my book and hurry outside to not make him wait.

Heath straightens when he sees me. His blue eyes fix on me as I cross the road and stand in front of him.

The bitter smell of the cigarette wafts off him strongly. With the way he looks so calm and collected, there’s no doubt he’s had a couple of them.

“Hi," I say, stepping back because I can’t handle the bitter smell.

“Hi,” he says softly, but his eyes are anything but that. The hue of his blue eyes is justblue.There’s no emotion in them. Nothing. Just emptiness.

He’s not the Heath I know.

The realization painfully tugs my heartstrings. But I plaster on a fake smile. Maybe what I have in mind will cheer him up.

“C’mon. We should go. It’s Saturday. The place will be packed.”

The lack of response and emotion dims me, but I promise myself that I’ll make this day good for him.

I ruined it.

Remember what I said earlier? Forget it.

I didn’t make his dayanybetter.

I thought going to an arcade would cheer him up, but it did nothing.

Heath is extra quiet today. At the arcade, he barely said a word to me and made no effort to join me in games. Instead, he stood behind me and watched me play all the games.

By afternoon, we exited the arcade. I took us to a diner where we—I—ate food. Heath just sat back and looked out the window. For every question I asked he either gave me a short answer or silence. No facial expression. Nothing.

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