Page 81 of Obsession

He let me go, and I was relieved, I couldn’t stand the tension between us anymore. In the bathroom, I filled my palms with water. I couldn’t pour it on my face without ruining my makeup, but I splashed it over my neck and arms. Two other girls were watching me with curious eyes, but I ignored them.

My lips were red and swollen, my neck stained with bite marks, my eyes sparkling. I didn’t recognize the girl in the mirror. My pale skin was a vibrant color, as if the blood was finally flowing normally through my veins again. I usually looked like shit after a dose, but now my body felt so damn good despite the whirlwind in my head.

But my heart was feeling fucking sick.

CHAPTER 9

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COLORED DUST ARTISTS

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Harris left me alone for the rest of the day.

What happened had affected him too, not just me. Whatever the reason, I was grateful that he gave me a moment to catch my breath.

I didn’t dare speak to the others because I felt guilty for what Zac had been through, but he was the one who came to me at the end of the day and offered to take me home. He wouldn’t allow himself to be intimidated by Harris.

None of them knew what had happened after I left the field, and I couldn’t pretend I hated Harris anymore.

Did I hate him?

I didn’t know what the hell was going on in my head anymore.

I was lucky my dad was there to get me.

***

The week had passed as if in slow motion, and I didn’t even know why, because I finally had some peace and quiet. After the volcanic way in which everything started, Thursdayand Friday were strangely quiet, apart from the fact that I was still being heavily analyzed.

By the end of Friday, conclusions had been drawn. Harris tried to bed me, probably succeeded, I already saw myself as his girlfriend, but then I realized he didn’t want to leave Amber, so that was why I had caused a scene on the field.

In short, I was an idiot in their eyes who thought she bagged the guy but ended up being used.

The most painful part was that the rumors were true to a certain extent. I had been stupid from the start. If he hadn’t asked me to stop him then, I wouldn’t have, and I would have fallen a lot deeper. Maybe I was high, but I wouldn’t be honest if I blamed it solely on the drugs.

Harris hadn’t been very present. On Thursday he’d been absent all day, along with his friends, and on Friday they’d all left before lunch. They skipped school without thinking about the consequences, and Chris told me that was the norm for them.

He didn’t speak a word to me or send any more text messages. I felt him staring at me a few times, but I did not return his gaze.

I hated how I felt every time he was around, when I knew he was looking at me. I hated his effect on me, but most of all I hated my own stupidity, because there were moments when I wanted nothing more than to be back in the gym with him, in the darkness.

He wasn’t the first man I’d been attracted to; I hadn’t turned eighteen like a virgin Mary who was not interested in the opposite sex. I’d had friends, coworkers – my choreographer, who I’d had a crush on for two years – who had caught my attention, but none of them had such an effect on me, not even my attempted relationship from when I was a freshman in high school.

It had taken the kid about three weeks to end it because I didn’t pay enough attention to him. In his defense: he was right. When I wasn’t in school, I was practicing. He said ‘goodbye’ when he came to see me at the studio where I danced almost every day. I don’t remember what competition I was training for, but Vince and I danced every spare minute we had. Roger, my poor sixteen-year-old boyfriend, didn’t like the dance because Vince would touch me all over while we practiced. It was not a sexy choreography by any means, but touching was unavoidable in couple pairings. The fact that Vince was hot and five years older than us didn’t help either, so I was without a boyfriend in seconds.

I still found it funny how Vince ordered me a comforting pizza afterwards and we laughed about our failed relationships. He had a much larger spread sheet than I did. I never told him I was attracted to him, but at that age, any guy could figure things like that out, especially when a teenager was involved. I was a brainless minor, and he clearly had known better than me how to respect that.

Not that I was any smarter now, considering what I’d done since I’d arrived in Seattle.

***

On Saturday morning I woke up with a terrible headache. I stared at the ceiling, which seemed to be spinning, until I managed to see clearly.

Wincing, I rubbed my forehead and tried with all my might not to think about drugs, about how badly I needed a dose. My brain was already shutting down, blocked by the thought that I needed drugs to live another day, but I hated those feelings so much that I mentally kicked my brain to get the drugs out of my mind. If I could have taken it out of my skull and physically stomped on it, I would have.

I tried to compare the rush to Harris, as I had done in the locker room on Wednesday.

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