Page 103 of Not Fooling Anyone

I try to hide the fat tears that let loose, rolling down my cheeks, but I can’t stop, especially when Travis comes over, hugging me, asking me again if I’m okay, if I’m hurt. It’s like Ethan unlocked this vulnerability within me. This awful urge to depend on others, to lean on them for support. I was doing fine taking care of myself for so long.

I rest my forehead against Travis’s chest, soaking his shirt, letting the tears come. I’ve never cried like this in my life. Not after realizing Dad would never take me to live with him. Not after escaping Cody. Not after finding Mom overdosed on the couch.

This was the one that broke me.

“I’m okay,” I finally tell Travis when I find my voice again. “I’m just… sad.”

Wow, what an understatement.

He leans back, his brows knit together. “What the hell happened? I’ve never seen you cry.”

I scrub my cheeks with my palms, wiping them on my jeans after. “Things aren’t going to work out with me and Ethan.” God, I sound so pathetic.

“Oh, honey.” He hugs me again. “I’m so sorry. What happened?”

I don’t want to get into that. Then I’d have to talk about my mom, which I’m absolutely not doing. “We have some… fundamental differences I can’t get past. It’s over.”

Saying the words aloud is the final nail in the coffin, my chest so incredibly tight it’s hard to draw a breath. But I do it anyway, forcing past the knives in my throat, making it through.

“I’m going to lie down,” I tell him, extracting myself from his hold.

“Are you sure? We can talk if you want.”

I give him a weak smile, holding it together. “Thanks, but I just want to be alone.”

He nods, his worried gaze following me as I stumble to my room, wrapping my arms over my stomach.

I curl up on my mattress, not bothering to pull the covers over me, and stare into the darkness, letting the tears leak out, wishing I could suppress everything that wants to come up. Wishing I could shove it all down deep into that hollow void inside me like I’ve done for so long.

But now I’m filled with… feelings. This is exactly what I didn’t want to happen.

I continue lying there, the intrusive thoughts eventually quieting, sleep overtaking me into a restless night filled with dreams I can’t quite remember in the morning but leave me with a vague sense of dread in the pit of my stomach.

I can’t concentrate on anything all day, going through the motions, but my mind is far away, that dread growing the closer it gets to two o’clock when our Psychology class meets.

I should skip it. Not put myself through the stress of seeing Ethan so soon.

But I have to see him at some point, and the longer I put it off, the harder it’ll be. He’s already texted me twice today, asking if I’m feeling better and if I wanted to get together for lunch. I had to make up some bullshit excuse about how I didn’t have time, how I had to cram for some made-up test in Russian Lit later. In truth, I skipped the required reading for today. Every time I opened my book, my vision blurred.

My steps are heavy as I walk from my Macroeconomics class to the Psychology lecture hall, veering off the path before I get there. I should wait until a minute after class starts to show up. That way, he can’t talk to me.

God, I’m such a coward.

I waste time doing a lot of nothing until two on the dot, then finish the trek there, doing the walk of shame up the room’s steps as everyone stares at me.

Ethan is in his normal seat next to Christian and Amber and I quickly file past the other people in the row, keeping my head down, mostly so I don’t have to meet Ethan’s eye.

What do I say to him? Do I explain what I found last night? Tell him he needs to get help?

Just the thought of doing that makes my stomach lurch again. I’ll figure it out another time, when the sting of it isn’t so fresh.

I settle in my seat, leaning forward to get my things out of my bag.

“You okay?” Ethan whispers as I open my notebook, ready to take notes.

I nod, staring ahead at Dr. Clark at the front of the room.

He drapes his arm over my shoulders, the same way he did in class Tuesday. That time it was a welcome weight. Reassuring. Comforting. Today, it’s a yoke around my neck, dragging me down. If I shrug him off, he’ll want to know why. He’ll want to talk about it. He always wants to talk about things I’m not ready to.

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