Page 7 of Getting It Twisted

And then . . . poof. He was gone, and there was a time when I felt like nothing would ever fill the void he left behind.

I grit my teeth and dump the photos back into the box. I should let my mom throw them out. I definitely shouldn’t bring them with me.

But that’s exactly what I do.

The moment I step inside the hallway back home, George pushes a tequila shot into my hand. Judging by his flushed skin and his goofy smile, he’s already drunk.

Music and voices merge into one pulsating, headache-inducing force. It jacks up my heart rate, makes me sweat. But it beats being alone. When you’re trying to keep your mind off somebody, loneliness is the real killer.

At some point, April joins me by the awkward spot between the stairs, the kitchen, and the living room. Her wild mane of long black hair drapes over my shoulder as she leans to speak into my ear.

“I’m glad this many people showed up. The weather’s gone insane.”

It’s not an exaggeration. Outside the windows, the rain is absolutely pouring down, and thunder rumbles in the distance. September is a little late for thunderstorms in Oregon, even after the unusually hot summer we’ve had.

I turn to April. “Any potential roommates to vet?” Our last roommate moved out a month ago after George kicked him out for hiding hard drugs in his room.

“George takes care of that stuff,” April says with a dismissive wave. “But I’ve already told him we could use the spare room for a pet instead. Maybe a guinea pig.” Her tattooed fingers grab my upper arm. “I heard about Lydia, by the way.”

“George told you? Great.” I take another sip of beer, already drunker than I should be at this hour.

“Don’t worry. You’ll find someone new.”

“Yeah, sure.” But that someone won’t be him. And I shouldn’t wish it was him. I shouldn’t even think about him. Hating him annoys me, but missing him makes me hate myself.

April winks at me and sips her obscenely colorful drink through a straw. “Just say the word, and I’ll fix you up with someone. How about Hailey?” She nods at a brunette in highheels. “Her boyfriend broke up with her two weeks ago.” She grabs my hand. “Come on, I’ll introduce you guys.”

She starts dragging me into the living room, but for some reason, the thought of talking with someone new makes my skin crawl.

“Maybe later.”

“Like I said, just say the word.” She winks again and elbows me in the side.

Sometimes—like right now—I feel like April and George act less like friends and more like some kind of parental figures, which is odd, considering they’re only one year my senior. But maybe I need it. God knows my real parents never paid much attention to me. Sometimes I feel like they’ve forgotten they even have a son. My dad has a new life with his new family in Portland, while my mom has spent the last fifteen years ignoring me in favor of her daughter.

As for April and George, however, the line between helpful and patronizing is thin, especially when I feel like I’m barely hanging on.

I take in the crowd again and spot the girl April mentioned, Hailey. She helps herself to a refill from the keg, meets my gaze, and smiles before she scurries off to rejoin her friends. She’s cute, I guess. But cute is not enough to sway me.

One-night stands bring me little satisfaction, although I’ve had them, and I do them. But it’s like scratching an itch that comes back tenfold a few days afterward. There’s no real point to it except to temporarily quell my loneliness, but even for that, it’s rarely helpful.

Maybe I should lay off sex for a while until I find someone I actually give a fuck about. Maybe I should crawl into a cave until I’m touch-starved enough to properly function. Or slither into a hole, change skin like a snake, and rise from theundergrowth . . . A new me, without a five-year-old hole in my heart.

Maybe I should forget about girls and look for a guy instead. The thing is every time I’ve tried has been a disaster.

It goes like this: They either remind me too much of Nathan, and I get all bogged down in old memories and emotions. Or they’re too unlike him and my attraction fizzles out like a doused match.

They can’t be too . . .nice. Which sounds fucking weird when I think about it, but it’s true. There’s no reason to push them into the mattress if they don’t talk back and annoy me. With girls, I don’t need that angry switch to flip, but with guys it’s different. And I always found myself the most turned on by Nathan when he annoyed the shit out of me. Maybe he’s caused some permanent damage in my brain and made me unable to fuck any guy who isn’t him.

I bet he’d like that.

I clench my teeth. Damn it all. One more beer, then I’ll go talk to Hailey. I might never find someone I’m special to and who’s special to me, but at least I can drown my sorrows in booze and sex.

As I look for a beer opener, I catch a glimpse in the kitchen window.

A car down by the road. A red car. A red Ford Mustang, with a spray-painted black hood.

No way. It can’t be . . . can it? Either I’m drunker than I thought, or the rain’s playing tricks on me.

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