Page 73 of The Perfect Spiral
She pulls out her notepad, flipping through it with a furrowed brow. I watch as her gaze flickers between me and the notepad, before finally settling on Knox.
Really? Ignoring me. Again.
“Um, I don’t seem to have an order for you,” she says, her voice laced with uncertainty. “Let me check with the kitchen.” My brow arches in response, irritation simmering beneath the surface. Please tell me she just forgot to write it down, but still gave the order to the kitchen.
My jaw clenches, my fingers gripping the glass of water in front of me as if it were her neck.
She saunters back to our table, her hips swaying with each step. “I’m sorry, but the kitchen doesn’t have any other order for this table other than a... Sizzler pizza,” she says, glancing down at her notepad once more.
“But I can place an order for you if you’d like? I can get you a menu?”
“For me to tell you my order again and for you to forget it—or forget the fact that I’ve been sitting here the entire time? Nah, I’m good, but thanks.” I stand, my patience worn thin, and shoot her a pointed look.
“I’ve lost my appetite. I’ll meet you at the car,” I tell Knox, who’s looking at me with pity etched across his face. He stands too, taking my hand and pulling me back towards him.
“Alex, here are the keys. Wait for me in the car. I’ll pay and then I’ll take you home,” he assures me. But his words do nothing to soothe the sting of being ignored. Forgotten. It’s a feeling all too familiar from my high school days.
As I push open the door to leave, the paparazzi swarm, their shouts echoing in my ears as I make my way to the car. I slip into the passenger seat, locking the doors until a knock on the driver’s side window breaks the silence. I open the door and Knox slips in. I hand him the keys, but say nothing.
The silence stretches between us. He tries to start a conversation, but I don’t respond. Not because I’m angry, but because I’m fighting back tears.
Tears that have been threatening to fall ever since I was alone in the car. We arrive at my house and I get out immediately. Knox follows, barely taking the time to remove the keys from the ignition.
He grabs my arms, spinning me around to face him, and that’s when the first tear falls. “Alex, I’m sor—” His voice trails off as he loosens his grip and I turn to walk inside.
I leave the door wide open, knowing Delilah will be here soon and he will want to see his mom. I rush up the stairs, making a beeline for my room before any more tears can fall.
Why am I crying? What did you expect, Alex?
“Alex!” I hear Knox’s voice echo up the stairs, but I don’t want to talk to anyone.
I just want to go back to Cali right now. I run into my room, locking the door behind me. I slide down to the floor, my back against the door, and let the tears fall.
I sit there for a while, crying silently, the only sound my ragged breaths.
I just want to be left alone. I strip off my top and jeans, standing at the edge of my bed in my underwear.
I toss his jersey onto my desk and rummage through my drawers for an old NYPD shirt that’s large and cozy. I pull it on, then crawl into bed, the knocking and pleading from Knox to open the door a constant background noise.
I lay there for a few more minutes, listening to his breath outside the door. Then I hear my mom’s voice, followed by Delilah’s. They’re asking Knox what happened, and while he stays quiet for a while, they eventually coax the story out of him. I lie in bed, clutching a pillow, listening to my own steady breaths.
I’m still crying, my pillow soaked with tears. I could really use my granddad right now.
I don’t know what time it is, but I’ve been lying in my bed for quite some time, staring out of my window as the sun begins to set.
“Alex, baby doll. Please let me in,” Knox pleads from the other side of the door. He’s been there since I locked myself in, refusing to leave despite Delilah’s numerous attempts to coax him downstairs.
He’ll give in eventually. I know he will. The smell of food wafts through the crack under my door, filling my room with its enticing aroma. But I can’t bring myself to leave. I’m not even hungry. I haven’t eaten anything since that cupcake this morning.
“Sis? Open up. It’s me,” Kyle’s voice filters through the door, followed by the sound of him trying to turn the knob.
I hear a series of sighs in the hallway. “I’ve tried to get her to open up ever since we came home. This is all my fault,” Knox admits, his voice heavy with guilt.
“Knox, it’s not your fault—”
“Yeah, it is, Sam! I let them all ignore her. I should’ve stood up for her! I should’ve been there for her and had her back, but no, I just sat there and let her take hit after hit. Fuck! I can’t get her face out of my head! This is all my fault!” His voice is filled with defeat.
The guilt he was carrying wasn’t his to bear. I knew he hadn’t made things any easier, and I had taken one hit after another. It wasn’t just one incident, it was a series of events that had unfolded throughout the day.
