Page 32 of Don't Hate Me
“This is getting too hard. You want out,” I said, feeling the punch in my gut. “You want me to let you go, but I won’t. I can’t.”
“I don’t want out.”
He said it, but I didn’t know if I believed him.
“It’s not about that. It’s about...fuck, if I know.”
“A couple more months,” I pleaded. “That’s all we’re talking about. You’ll finish your degree, and then nothing can stop us. No threat Arthur can hold over us. I’m asking you to fight for that long. For me.”
“That’s my point, Ash. This shouldn’t be a fight. This should be as easy as two people dating. For most everyone else on the fucking planet, it is.”
I shook my head. “I don’t believe that. I think people fight every day to hold on to what’s precious. Make sacrifices. What do you think should be easy?”
“Us. I think we should be easy.”
I felt the nerves immediately settle in my stomach. Marc wasn’t walking away. He wasn’t getting frustrated with me. He was angry at the situation, and that was a very different thing.
“We will be. Someday.”
“You honestly believe that?” he asked.
Simple answer. “With everything I have inside me.”
Another sigh. “What if you’re just some crazy stalker chick I can’t shake loose?”
I smiled. “Then you should call the police. Oh, wait, you can’t, because you got arrested once for resisting arrest and missed my prom!”
“Oh, yeah,” he said dryly. “That’s right. I forgot. When are you coming back from Arizona?”
“Monday. Why?”
“Because we need to figure out a way to see each other so I can smack your ass and pay you back for faking an orgasm by giving you a real one.”
I smiled again. “That sounds like a plan. My flight leaves early on Monday. The plan was to Uber home. You could skip class, meet me at the airport, we could spend the day together, and then, after, you drop me off at the airport and I Uber home later. If anyone asks, I’ll say the flight was delayed. That should give us hours. Can you skip your Monday class?”
“I can make it work,” he muttered. But he wasn’t happy about it. Not happy that he couldn’t simply take me to the estate, like any boyfriend might be able to do.
I fell back on my bed, my phone still pressed to my ear. “I know this is not you, Marc. I know sneaking around and coordinating plans must seem like too much effort. I’m sorry I can’t be any different.”
“I’ll see you Monday.”
I sighed, knowing his non-answer was a confirmation I was right.
This sneaking and hiding wasn’t him, and I was pushing him into a situation because I hadn’t wanted to wait any longer for us to be together. Really together.
This had never been the plan. The plan had always been to wait until he graduated. To wait until we were both independent adults, making decisions about our lives.
Then he came to Florida, and the thought of what we’d had there…the image of him having that experience with someone else... it was like glass exploding inside my stomach, cutting me from the inside with a million different slices.
He had to see it. He had to know being with someone else was never going to be like being with me.
Or maybe he couldn’t know it until therewassomeone else.
“Goodnight,” I said softly.
“Goodnight, Ash.”
I ended the call and squeezed the phone tight in my hand as if I could will Marc, from a distance, to understand. To have patience. With me. With the situation.
