Page 33 of Up In Flames
Done for the day.
Concrete needs forty-eight hours to dry.
Don’t walk on it. We’ll start on the seat wall tomorrow.
By the timeI make it home, Taylor still hasn’t acknowledged my text. The fact that his silence disappoints me makes me feel like such an immature, indecisive asshole.
I told him I didn’t want him.
And I don’t.
Except for the part of me that does.
I grab a shower and slip into some joggers. I try turning on the game, but I can’t fucking concentrate. I’m wearing a path in my living room floor because my mind is such a disaster that my body won’t relax, and my chest is back to feeling tight.
Finally, I sit my ass down and allow myself to remember the feeling of his skin brushing across mine. The way his hands felt on my back. How he felt in my arms. And although my heart was racing while it was happening, the memory of it lightens the pressure in my chest and causes my heart rate to even out.
But just as my body begins returning to normal, my stupid phone beeps
Phoenix
Just checking in. How are you?
Not one to enjoy hiding behindlies, I tell my friend the truth.
Knox
In a weird spot. She called again. Left a voicemail.
Phoenix
Have you listened to it yet?
Knox
No. Not sure I’m going to.
That’s a lie.Eventually, I will. Eventually, my weakness will win, and I won’t be able to help myself. Let’s be honest, Idodeserve an apology. Maybe that’s what it is. Won’t know until I listen to it.
But not right now. I can’t bring myself to play it yet, even though the silence in my house is deafening.
In the span of the last two weeks, my loneliness has caused me to question my sexuality, question my morals, lash out at my friends and their happiness, and resort to drinking far more than I should.
On my second glass of bourbon, I force myself not to think as I reach for the damn device causing me so much heartache.
Knox
What if I don’t know what I need at this moment?
I hit send beforeI come to my senses and erase it. A fresh wave of anxiety rips through me as the waiting game begins. I uncap the bottle, prepared to top myself off, but before I can pour more, my phone rings, and I almost let out a sob of relief.
“I’m drunk,” I say instead ofhello.Like somehow explaining that lets me off the hook for whatever comes next.
“I’m not,” the voice replies confidently, fully ready to take responsibility for his words and actions. “Fuck what youneed, Knox. Tell me what youwant.”
“I don’t know,” I reply, still unable to say it.
“Bullshit,” Taylor whispers softly but full of confidence. “Tell me.”
