Page 109 of Collision
He frowns and points a finger at me, threatening. “Don’t you ever do that again.”
“Or what?” I challenge him.
He stares at me furiously for a few seconds, until his mouth curves into an evil grin.
“I pity you. Look at you, coming here convinced you were going to what? Lift poor Thomas’s spirits? Patch up my wounds? When are you going to get it into your little head that just because we hooked up,that doesn’t mean you matter to me?” His mouth spews poison, but his eyes are filled with sadness.
“You are suffering. You don’t really mean what you’re saying.” I want with all my heart to believe that’s true. Otherwise, yesterday would have been just another lie. Still, I can’t ignore the little voice in my head that insists on reminding me of the saddest truth: he doesn’t form attachments to anyone. My eyes begin to burn, and I bite down on the inside of my cheek to stop the tears from falling.
“Do yourself a favor. Get out.” He waves a hand at the door. I know very well that I should have left long ago. In fact, I shouldn’t have come here at all. But in spite of everything, this is the only place I want to be. With him. Even if it means fighting. Even if it means suffering. Even if it means weathering his wrath, the worst of him.
“I’m not leaving,” I murmur.
“Should I throw you out?” he growls, leaning into me.
“You wouldn’t do that.”
He reaches me in one step and, for a moment, I fear he might actually attack me. I stiffen with fear and back up, crashing into the cabinet. When he is just inches away from me, his expression turns into one of pure bewilderment. He takes my face in his hands, a desperate, needy grasp, just gentle enough to let me know that he won’t hurt me. He presses his forehead to mine, closing his eyes. “Why are you being so difficult, huh? Why?”
“I want to help you,” I whisper, so close to his lips.
“Why do you want to do something stupid like that?” He grips my cheeks with more force.
“Because,” I murmur with shining eyes. “Because I’m your friend. And friends support each other.” I offer him this half-truth, convinced that I am reassuring him, but he pulls away from me instead, his eyes bloodshot. And I quickly realize that, for the second time in this conversation, my words have only made the situation worse.
“Get out,” he orders.
“What?” I widen my eyes in confusion. Our conversation is interrupted then by a couple of knocks on the door. A shrill voice callsThomas’s name and makes my skin crawl. There’s only one person who can hit that unmistakable high note: Shana. I turn toward the door and then look back at Thomas, who stands motionless in front of me, never batting an eyelash.
“Thomas, open up. I want to be with you.” Shana stops knocking. “I know you’re in there. I heard voices.” She knocks again. “Come on, don’t make me wait. Please?”
“Well? Aren’t you going to let her in?” I ask indignantly.
Thomas shakes his head. “No, I don’t need another pain in my ass.” He pronounces each word clearly and cruelly, looking me straight in the eyes. “But apparently none of you understand that. You in particular.”
And it’s as if he had punched me in the stomach. “Me in particular.”
Even I have my limits.
I push him hard, grab my bag from the chair, and beeline for the door.
Thomas lets me go and lights a cigarette. “And while you’re out there, tell her the same thing,” he continues maliciously before dismissing me with a wave of his hand.
I look at him, deeply saddened. “Fuck you.”
He leans his back against the table, crosses his legs, and stares at me. His eyes are alight with anger. “Maybe I’ll fuck Shana instead. That’s what she’s here for, after all,” he says with a sinister smirk.
For a moment, I can’t breathe. Tears spill over my eyelids, but I turn away before he notices. I close the door forcefully behind me, putting all my pain into the movement.
Once outside, I come face-to-face with Oregon State’s biggest bitch, who is looking at me with an expression that is both surprised and mocking.
“Uh-oh, look who’s sneaking out of Thomas’s room.” She strokes the long smooth hair that falls over her shoulder. “I’ve always said that the ones who pretend to be angels are the worst of all. You’re just a little whore.” I feel an anger boiling up inside me, so intense that I could rip that annoyingly perfect hair right out of her head. I advance on her andstare brazenly into her eyes.
“Yeah, maybe you’re right.” She blinks in astonishment. “But at least I didn’t have to beg him to open the door for me,” I point out contemptuously. She remains motionless as she stares at me, taken aback. She tries and fails to hide the humiliation that shines in her eyes.
I give her a murderous look and walk away.
With shaking legs and a churning stomach, I get into the elevator, and I don’t look back. I should have listened to Leila. Whatever is troubling him, it is rotting him from the inside out. And there’s nothing I can do to save him.
