Page 31 of Inevitable

“Yep,” I said popping my P obnoxiously, “and now I've lost him for good because I can't be with him. Now he's got Douchey McPerfect Hair and they're gonna fall in love and have beautiful kids and a perfectlife while I die alone because I can't be with the love of my fucking life.” My voice was wavering and nearly garbled beyond recognition, the emotions that I had pushed down for weeks threatening to pull me under.

“Bash, that's not true. If you think he's the love of your life, then doesn't it make sense to fucking fight for him? I know what your dad threatened, but there's got to be some way to be with Micah and… I don't know, keep it from your dad or something,” Dawson suggested, his tone growing serious.

I shook my head, the movement making my head swim in dizziness. “No…Micah doesn't deserve to be hidden like that. I want him to be loved loudly and for the world to see. I want him to be so endlessly happy that nothing can steal his joy. He deserves to feel a love that reaches down into his marrow, so that he never goes a day without feeling it, so he never once doubts it. He deserves…” I trail off, tears pouring down my face as grief and anguish slam into me like a tidal wave, sweeping me into its current until I felt nothing but the pain. “He deserves…so much more than me.”

The floodgates unleashed, and I sobbed into my hands. Every ounce of regret, agony, and anger I carried since the night I touched Micah cascaded in salty waves down my face. The disgust toward myself, the regret of hurting my best friend, the fury toward my dad, and the all-encompassing love I felt for Micah…my Micah—I felt it all.

Dawson fell silent, but I could feel his compassion and empathy for me like sonic waves. He simply sat down beside me, gently placed a hand on my shoulder and let me cry myself to sleep.

*****

Pain. That's all I felt when I woke up the next morning and my head felt like it was playing Metallica's greatest hits at a decibel level loud enough to break glass. The pounding in my skull then created a miserable nausea deep in my core, and my dry mouth begged for water.

I didn't wake up hungover often because I knew my limits fairly well when drinking, but last night I had foolishly chosen to fall into the metaphorical bottle and drown my problems. Clearly that had backfired on me magnificently.Dear universe, when I wondered if shit could get any worse, that was a rhetorical question, not a challenge, just FYI.

It took me twice as long to get out of bed and go through my morning routine, and when I was finally able to stagger into my kitchen to make coffee, I heard a knock at the door. I groaned and grabbed my head, the knocking sounding like the beating of drums right next tomy ear. The knocking came again not two seconds later, and I couldn't drag up an idea of who would be pestering me at such an ungodly hour. Maybe Dawson had come back to check that I wasn't dead, or perhaps Micah had swung by to tell me about his date.

That notion had the nausea swirling intensely and I had to focus all my energy on not puking right there on my kitchen floor. God, I was a fucking mess. I tottered over to the door, unlocking it and gently swinging it open a crack. The sight was altogether un-fucking-welcome.

“Ainsley, what are you doing here so early?” I grumbled. She blinked her wide, blue eyes at me.

“It's ten in the morning, Bastian,” she relayed as if I were an idiot.Oh…well okay then…in my defense, 10am is too fucking early for anyone with a hangover and I'll die on that hill.

“We were supposed to go to brunch today and you wouldn't answer your phone,” Ainsley complained. She didn't seem pissed more than merely irritated with me, so I prayed I could avoid an unnecessary (and loud) fight.

“Oh…sorry, Ains,” I murmured halfheartedly. “I went out with Dawson last night and woke up with a massive headache. I didn't hear my phone go off.” I stumbled back to my bedroom as I spoke, grabbing my phone and seeing that it had died sometime last night. I plugged it in and waited for it to charge a bit before turning it back on.

“Oh…so you were with Dawson? What about Micah?” she asked barely containing her sneer at the mention of him.

“He was busy,” I said simply. I didn't want to think about the reason right now or I would explode in a disturbing display of digestive pyrotechnics.

“Oh. That sucks.” By her tone I knew she was only too happy that my best friend had been absent from my evening. She pressed on, “Well, we can just go grab lunch together right now! Where do you want to go?” She made her way over to my closet and started trying to put together an outfit for me.Sweet fucking mercy, I don't have the capacity for this crap.

“Ainsley, I'm not up to lunch right now. My head is splitting, I feel like puking, and I just want to relax until my body stops trying to die on me,” I wearily said, attempting to keep my temper in check. Ainsley had a way of drawing it out of me like no one else on this planet, save for my father.

She spun around to look at me, examining me like she could physically see the hangover present on my body. “Okay…well then, I'll just order in some food for us and we can watch a movie instead. I think maybe just some sandwiches or something because…”

“Ainsley, I don't want food and I don't want to watch a movie,” I growled, cutting off her rambling. “I'm sorry, but I really just want to be alone.”

Her eyebrows pinched together and her arms crossed over her chest, eyes pinning me to the spot. “You know, I'm getting freaking tired of you constantly blowing me off. I'm not a fucking idiot. I know that you're not with me by choice, but that doesn't mean you can still treat me like shit.”

Was she fucking serious? “If you know I'm not in this relationship of my own free will, then why do you keep pressing? Why are you so intent on being with me? Don't you get that I'm fucking miserable? This isn't what I want!” I barked at her.

She continued to fume. “You don't get a choice, Bastian, and neither do I! I know what your father told you, and he expects us to be together, so I'd get with the program if I were you. I don't care if this isn't what you want! We'll be together in the end anyway. Both of our fathers have already discussed it and it's happening. It's as good as done! That's how it works in our world, so find a way to make peace with it.”

“Ainsley, you don't have to fucking do everything your father tells you to,” the hypocrisy in my words almost making me cringe. “Just because they think they can plan our lives, doesn't mean you have to go along with it. I'm trapped in this shit because I can't let him lock my mom up like some fucking nut case, but you! If you told your dad you didn't want me, maybe mine would finally let me go!” I begged her.

Ainsley's look turned to one of pity, and I was confused by the sudden change in her demeanor. “Bastian, you really don't get it. I don't want out of this. Marrying you is the best chance at a future I have, and honestly, I want it. Your father has big plans for you, and I am guaranteed to be a part of that. You couldn't get out of this if you tried. He'll ruin your mother before he lets you ruin his plans. Money and power will win out every time, and your dad has an abundance of both.”

She made me fucking sick. Ainsley proved that she was just as vapid and greedy as my father and the people who inhabited his tiny, privileged world. She had firsthand knowledge of my dad's threats and the control he exerted over me, and she took advantage of it like a fucking sociopath. I was just the goddamn imbecile too cowardly to fight back.

“You really are a piece of work, Ainsley,” I said, completely disgusted with her. “You know this whole relationship is a fuckingfarce, so do us both a favor and stay the fuck away from me unless absolutely necessary. Dad demanded one date a month, and as far as I'm concerned that's all you're going to get from me. Now get out,” I turned to walk out of my room, but her next words stopped me cold.

“And if I told him about Micah?”

My body radiated anger as I kept my back to her trying to take slow, even breaths. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“What if I told your dad that you were fucking Micah behind my back? That you and your so-called best friend were running around flaunting yourselves on campus? I think we both can imagine what he'd say,” she said venomously.

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