Page 70 of Catch Me
So, yeah, I knew. I’d known when I harassed Til and when I started sleeping with him. Then, Malcolm and Ezra. And now...
I lifted my stylus from the tablet and looked over at where Travis usually stood, throwing the ball with one of his teammates. He didn’t come today, and I hadn’t asked why because I didn’t want him to think that I wanted him here. But I did, and I needed to get the fuck past it.
Gay, not gay, it didn’t matter. Even if he was interested in me, which he wasn’t, I hadn’t figured my shit out.
In twelve days, we’d say goodbye and move on with our lives. We weren’t friends. He was just too nice for his own good.
*****
I stared at the message from my doctor in my email. A new prescription. Just what I needed.
All hope about medication helping me feel better had died a while ago. At this point, I tried them because he thought they’d work. He said I hadtreatment resistantdepression. Then, why did we keep trying to treat it? My brain was broken, end of story. I’d been dealing with it for so long that I was kind of fine with it at this point. It was my normal, and I survived.
The meds sucked. They either didn’t help or they made it worse. A couple made me feel suicidal, which was the most bullshit side effect for a depression medication to have. I didn’t know if I’d try this new one or just accept things as they were and keep on trucking. The recurrent hope and disappointment every time he changed it seemed like it was doing more harm than living with the constant heaviness in the back of my mind.
He said drinking would make it worse, and I’d assured him that it had been weeks since I had alcohol. It was true, and I was very interested in changing that today.
Grabbing the vodka bottle from the nightstand, I took a swig of it. Tomorrow was Wednesday, so I didn’t have to be at the field. I could sleep the day away if I wanted to. If you couldn’t beat the dark thoughts, sleep through them.
After I started to get a buzz, I felt cramped in the room. My studio wasn’t much bigger, but it was a whole apartment with a kitchen. This was like sneakily drinking in my room as a teenager. I wasn’t keen on being around Travis under the influence of alcohol. At the same time, I wouldn’t mind being around him, regardless of the details.
Since I had one whole hobby, I brought my tablet with me. I laughed when I thought about it being like Linus’ security blanket. Had I ever gone a day without drawing? I didn’t think so.
Deciding to be a civilized creature, I grabbed a glass and poured some of the vodka into it. It was cold outside, but I loved sitting on the deck and swinging my legs over the side, so that was what I did. Travis was throwing the ball for Tessa, which may or may not have something to do with it.
I took a long drink, then watched the two of them. He was wearing a light blue hoodie with dark jeans, and he made it look more stylish than a five-piece suit. I liked that he sported different colors, rather than sticking with mostly black or white. The color he wore today looked the best on him, though.
He threw the ball, then looked at me. When he smiled, I returned it the best I could. I probably looked dumb as hell, like an alien trying to mimic human behavior.
I stared down at the tablet and tried to decide what to work on. I should probably pull up the pieces for the project, but I just wasn’t in the mood. I had the sketches done for most of them, and the rest of it was too tedious while drinking.
“Drawing me again?” he asked.
When I looked up, he was standing in front of me, just a few feet away. “Nope.”
“Pity.”
I laughed and tapped the stylus on my leg. “You want me to draw you?”
“Makes me feel special.” He came closer, then picked up my glass. After sniffing it, he knocked it back. “What are we drinking to?”
“Existentialism?”
“I can get behind it. I have a team interview tomorrow that won’t be fun, but one won’t hurt.”
“You already had one,” I pointed out.
“That was yours, so it doesn’t count.”
“Mhm.”
I got to my feet and walked with him to the kitchen. Since my dignity had already been shattered the other day, I pulled up one of my newest illustrations and turned the tablet around. He brought his drink to his mouth while he looked at it.
“You asshole. You really drew me covered in flour.”
I shrugged. “It was funny.”
“Well, I think I still look good.”
