Page 28 of Collided

“Mare told me that you told Hope to stay away from you. What’s up with that?”

“Nothing,” I say rather too quickly.

Fuck.

A smirk curls on his lips. “I see.”

He’s thrilled with the idea that he can tease me about a girl. God knows I did the same.

“What?” Rolling down the window, I pluck out a cigarette from the pack and light it up.

“You’re afraid of catching feelings for her.”

That won’t ever fucking happen.

I’ve never gotten serious with a girl. They don’t interest me. Sure, I can make out for a bit, but that’s about it. I’ve never taken things beyond kissing. Not because I’m not attracted to girls or anything. It’s just my mind doesn't rest when our lips are moving, and my hands are roaming their body. I’m supposed to feel something, fall into lust, or whatever, but I crave to be alone.

I exhale the smoke out of the window. “You’re delusional, Bash.”

“Call me whatever you want. Deep down, you know I’m right.”

I flicker down the ashes and spare him a glance. “Quite contrary to your belief, I won't fall in love with her. She’s not my type at all.”

He scoffs. “No girl is your type.”

“Precisely. I’m not interested in girls.”

Confusion flickers across his face. “Is it boys then? Because that would be okay too.”

That comment pushes me off the edge and anger makes my blood hot.

He knows I’m not gay. If I were, he’d be the first to know. However, it pisses me off that Marie and he both think there’s a chance I’m gay because I don’t mingle with girls.

“Shut the fuck up.”

He gestures to the cigarette. “This isn’t right for your health. You can stop now. You’re still young.”

“You’re one to talk.”

He looks out of the window. “It’ll get you killed.”

“Why else do you think I do it?”

Sebastian has listened to my suicidal talk enough to not fight with me on the matter. Nothing he says will change my mind or the way I feel about life.

People live life, I’m getting pushed through it, because I can’t stay stuck at one point in life. Just because I wake up every day doesn’t mean I want to.

There’s a cocktail of emotions inside of me. Anger, frustration, guilt, sadness, and what fucking else. I can’t tell someone what I’m actually feeling. All I know is, I’m not fucking fine. Not even close to it. I’m miserable because of what happened last year. I can’t get over the death of my sister.

“How’s your mother?” I ask, instead.

“She isn’t doing drugs.” That’s as far as he’d answer that question.

He stares at me, and I already know what he’s going to ask. “Did your dad call?”

“Yeah. I had a match, so I missed it.” That man doesn’t give up. He’s been insistently calling me every day, for God knows what. He knows I hate him, but that doesn’t stop him from making me hate him even more. Parents are so fucking aggravating.

“I have a match tonight,” he offers.

---