Page 33 of Chase
“That’d make your sister mad,” Max kisses the tip of her nose and I swear these two are so in love it makes the romance books she reads seem real. Like happily ever afters do exist. Like you can get the girl and have it all.Everyone but me.
“Get your coat on before he starts beeping the horn and waking up the whole damn street,” Drew jumps in and pulls my sister in for a hug before heading to the door. A, Max and I are gathering our shit when the horn blares. “Now you’re fucked,” Drew adds while laughing his head off.This fucking morning.
Chapter Twelve
ILAIDin bed and twisted and turned for a long while before finally putting on some music to take my mind off of things. That only seemed to make things worse as I listened to T. Swift on repeat. I thought about the boy outside while she went on about love and her heart breaking. She sang about mixed signals and I couldn’t help but think that his actions spoke louder than his words.That had to mean something right?Unless I know with absolute certainty that these feelings are unrequited, I’m notsure I can take her advice andshake it off. Maybe I need to show him what I’m feeling.
I’ve got this cockamaymie idea in my head and the more I think about it, the more I think it may work. It seems perfect the more I mull it over. I have a song choice in the show and can sing something that maybe seem subtle to the crowd but will be specific to him. I’ll make sure he knows I’m singing from my heart and straight to his.
With each song that played, my idea comes to life in my head and seems like the perfect way to show him how I feel. Then he can decide what he wants to do. In my mind, he rushes the stage, takes me in his arms, and kisses the daylights outta me but I’d settle for him waiting for after the show, taking my hand in his, and making his own stand. Or at the very least, starting to close this distance between us. Something. Anything. Because if he does nothing, then I’ll know, and I’ll force myself to move on.And I may just die of embarrassment.
I kept wanting to check to see if he was still out there or if he had run on home after I shut my light but stayed in bed thinking about what could be. Evie is staying with Max and the apartment is extra quiet tonight. She mentioned that Max and the boys are planning on talking to him tomorrow about all the running he’s doing and about his depression.
From what I gather, he needs some help dealing with his demons. Makes sense, after all, a little help can go along way. It’s not my place to say anything, I shouldn’t be throwing stones in glass houses, anyway. If Evie, and even Max, knew what I got up to and how I deal with my darkness, the both of them would be sending me in the looney bin. So, pot meet kettle.
I didn’t fall asleep until way past midnight and managed to sleep through two alarms which is a first for me since coming to Havenwood. I’m usually up a whole three minutes before myfirst alarm has a chance to chirp and by the time my backup alarm is going off I’ve already gone through my list of daily tasks.
But not today, and of all days no less. I’m late and I hate being late. It’s a pet peeve of mine and one I try to avoid if I can. Without fail, my day ends up in shambles if at any given point I’m late and today is shaping up to be no different. This is a very important Tuesday and one I’ve been preparing for. I could do without any additional bumps in the road.
Thank goodness yesterday was hair washing day so it’s not a total rat’s nest when I brush through it. I made sure to also lay out my clothes last night and pack my bag so I’ve made record time getting dressed. I skip over to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee before I go.Surely, that will help me turn things around.
I’m halfway to believing I’ve broken my own curse of bad mornings when I take a sip of the caffeine goodness. I fixed it up just right with my favorite flavored creamer and an extra scoop of sugar. I was never allowed to drink my coffee like this back at home so I make sure to make it as fancy as I like now. I’m putting a lot of faith in this cup and expecting it to be my saving grace.
Instead the hot liquid tastes absolutely disgusting, and I gag the second it hits my tongue. I spray the weaker-than-water salty coffee outta my mouth and all over my white sweater and hold back a scream.
I musta mixed up the sugar and salt that are on the counter. My phone buzzes letting me know I’m outta time. I wish I could just go right back to my room and pretend none of this happened. I dump my mug of gross coffee into the sink and shake my head in defeat. I swear sometimes I’d be better off just staying in my bed.
My hands immediately start trembling and I feel a surge of anger over the past hour. Oversleeping, messing up my coffee, and now wanting to cut. I told Davis I’d try to deal with my feelings in healthier ways and I need to try. I need to figureout other ways to press the reset button especially when these annoying things happen.
I’m already gonna be late and decide to get outta this coffee stained top. I rip my stained sweater off my body and shrug on another shirt and try to keep my eyes off my night stand where my sharp scissors are stashed.I can do this. I can do this.
“You better stay outta that bathroom, you're trying to keep your promise, ya hear,” I whisper to myself but my voice sounds shaky at best. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to do this. It may seem silly, that oversleeping and spilled coffee can send me over the edge and reaching for my razor, but it’s the anxiety crawling all over my body that's driving me towards the brink.
Being a constant screw up and having a running ticker to remind me of every mistake I’ve made and will surely continue to make, are hard to cope with. Counting backwards, deep breathing, and going through grounding exercises only help me to a point. Cutting takes care of the rest.But ya promised Davis to try harder.
I need to reach past the razor and stretch to grasp my sense of control before my meeting with the Havenwood Herald today. I joined the digital journalism team last semester to get my feet wet with editing. When I was at UGA I wrote for their app under a pen name and marched right over to the Havenwood Herald my first week on campus.
With my UGA experience they had me writing and starting to support the editing staff as soon as our first staff meeting was over. Today, I’m sitting down with the Chief Editor about a full time editing gig, and starting my morning like this is not the impression I want to set or the omen I want hanging over my head.
I make a fist and dig my nails into my palm and the bite of pain settles my nerves for the moment as I punch my arms through my coat and button up. It’s a better option than cuttingbut still not the best way to manage all of my messes. I rush outta the building and rub my uncut thumb with my index finger as if it holds all the answers to my problems this morning. I’m so anxious I feel nauseous, it probably doesn’t help that I’ve got an empty stomach.
Mama always preferred it that way, said it was easier to suck my belly in if there wasn’t much in there. Her condescending voice trickles through my head and I try to focus on something else but it's no use. I wish my head was like an Etch-A-Sketch and I could give myself a shake until every bad thought disappeared.
I feel like I’m flipping her the bird when I pull out a bag of those chocolate chip mini muffins Max and Evie keep in the pantry. She threw one at me when I was walking out the door the other day and I stuffed it in my bag. I inhale the little morsels of breakfast desert and take a swig of water from my bottle. I wish it was coffee but that’ll have to wait until afterwards. I’ve got an English class I’m already late for and just need to get there, sit my butt down, and settle in before my HH meeting afterwards.
I pull open the first set of doors of the building that my class is held in and as I yank it open, a handsome blonde man who could pass as a model in an Abercrombie ad comes barreling out towards me. It seems that he was pushing the door out to exit while I was pulling the door to enter. He attempts to brace himself to not tackle me as he falls to the concrete ground.
With one fluid and might I add, impressive movement, he swoops me in his arms, tilts his frame and takes the brunt of the crash, shielding my body with his larger one. He has his large paw of a hand protecting my head which is under his chin as he holds me to his strong, broad and muscular chest. He smells like department store cologne and a hero.Oh. My. Soul. What. Just. Happened?
“Are you okay? I didn’t see you on the other side of the door,” he releases me from his hold and we’re still on the cold paved ground in front of the building. I look up and he’s got a big smile on his face. He looks like he just realized he’s got a winning lottery ticket in his pocket. He’s grinning so hard his porcelain smile looks like it’s about to crack.
“I’m fine sugar, thanks to you. Are you okay?” I ask him, feeling concerned for his well being, considering we’re laid up on the ground and he did just spare me an injury. That must have hurt taking a spill like that with me in the mix.
“I’m more than okay. I’m Will, by the way.” He pops up to his feet before extending his hand to guide me to a standing position. I can’t help but smile as a thank you for him offering his assistance.
“Sloane, it’s nice to meet ya,” I offer back and take a good look at him. He’s very handsome with a clean shaven face, strong jawline, and piercing blue eyes that are glued to me. Any girl would feel a little off balance under his gaze. I bet most melt into piles of mush.
“I like your hair,” he says and lifts his hand up like he’s going to reach out and touch my ponytail but then he hand falls back down to his side. I automatically run my fingers through the ends of my hair and slightly look away. I kinda feel like he’s inspecting me. Like he’s sizing me up. He’s not even trying to hide his gawking.
