Page 72 of Blitz'd

She’s just as bad as he is.

“I’m done.”

I shoulder past him hard enough to send him knocking into the wall and step into my apartment, closing the door behind me with a loud slam.

I lock it and brush past Asher as he starts to ask questions about my split lip and the bruise I’m sure is forming on my jaw.

Fuck.

I don’t realize my entire body is shaking until I get into my room. I don’t realize that I’m not sure whether I want to laugh or break something, because this was something I should have done years ago.

This was something I should have done the second I left home.

I don’t know why I didn’t before. I don’t know what’s?—

My phone rings, and I snatch it out of my pocket with a scowl, worried it’s them still out in the lobby, demanding I come and talk to them again.

But Zander’s name is on the screen, and something in my chest feels tight.

He wants to see me.

I’m supposed to meet up with him.

My fingers come to my lips, and my brows snap together. They’retrembling.

I’m fucking shaking.

I can feel the odd, floating feeling of something close to dissociation trying to creep up along my spine, and…

Fuck.

I can’t see him like this.

I finally closed the door to the people in my life who spent my entire childhood making me feel vulnerable,unworthy.

And Zander…

Fuck.

Zander is a whole different field of feelings, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with them.

My thumb punches the screen and I answer with just my voice, pulling the phone to my ear so I don’t have to see his face.

“Braithe.” Fuck, is my voice wavering? Shaking? Is that fuzzy, detached feeling spilling up my vocal chords? “What do you want?”

“What do I want?” He snorts. “You’re the one who texted me a thirst trap. Though if you need me to list it off, I want?—”

I cut him off before he gets started, because I can’tdothis right now. His voice is making my chest feel tight, and I don’t know what to do about it. I don’t knowwhyit’s happening.

“Something came up, I can’t go get food.”

There’s a pause, and I can almost imagine his lips turning down, the disappointment flashing across his features. After a second, though, he sighs. “Fine. But what if you came to a party with me tonight? I wanted to ask you something anyway.”

Party.

People seeing my split lip—people seeing my bruised jaw. Me having to pull on my mask when I feel like I left it out in the hallway.

I can’t.

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