Page 107 of The Love of My Next Life
“No,” I say honestly. “I haven’t told anyone. Not even Claire. And I doubt Macon has said anything.”
“I don’t think he’s told the guys either,” Sam says, and it shocks me.
I also feel a little better, though, because it’s not just me he’s cut off. But we’re two months into the spring semester, and I thought he’d have come around by now. I avoided him for a while after that night in my bedroom, but then I caved. I tried to put myself everywhere he was. And every time, he gave me the cold shoulder.
I still see him in the hallways. I stare at him, but he never looks back. Never acknowledges me at all. Sometimes, I can feel his eyes on me, but I never catch him. At home, it’s almost worse. He’ll look at me. Talk to me, even. Ask about school and other surface-level bullshit, and he does it all as if I’m nothing special. I’m not a friend. I’m definitely not a sister. I’m not even a former lover.
I’m no one.
“It’ll get better,” she says, and I roll my eyes. She snorts. “Okay, you’re right, I’m full of shit.”
She laughs, then I laugh, and it feels good. Like a few rocks are removed from the avalanche crushing my chest.
“Look, it fucking sucks,” Sam says after we catch our breath. “The whole thing fucking sucks. But it’s not forever. You’ll be in England in two months, then NYU in the fall. All this bullshit? It’ll be a past life. You’ll get to build a new one soon.”
I let her words sink in. I try to draw comfort from them, but I fail. I don’t want England or NYU. I don’t want a new life. I want Macon in this one.
“When did you stop being a bitch?” I ask.
“I didn’t,” she deadpans. “You just became one with me.”
We stare at each other for a moment before falling into laughter once more. I follow her out of the bathroom with a rare smile on my face, but stop short when I see Claire standing in the hallway with Josh.
She bounces her eyes between me and Sam. Her lip quivers. She closes her eyes. The she turns and runs in the opposite direction. Sam, Josh, and I stare after her, before Josh turns to us and grimaces.
“Hey, Lennon. Sam.” He nods toward Claire’s disappearing form. “I better...”
He turns and jogs away. I release a slow sigh.
“Never a dull moment, at least,” Sam quips, and it starts my laughter again.
* * *
My bed dipslow and it wakes me from sleep. The sheets rustle, and an arm wraps around my middle.
I’m not frightened. I don’t have to look to know who it is.
Spearmint and spice.
“Macon,” I whisper, but when I try to turn to face him, he tightens his hold.
“Don’t,” he says. “Don’t make me leave. Just...let me hold you. Just for a bit.”
I breathe slowly.
I know I should push him away. I should kick him out. Tell him to fuck off. He just hurts me and hurts me and hurts me, and I keep letting him.
But then he presses a kiss to the back of my head, and like every other time, I go pliant.
I let him hold me. I fall back asleep in his arms to the sound of his breathing, and in the morning, he’ll be gone. We’ll act like it never happened. He’ll go back to superficial interactions at home and blatantly ignoring me at school.
It shatters my heart. Stabs deeper and deeper until my body is in so much pain that I become numb. Numb enough that the next time, I don’t even hesitate. I just let him into my bed and curl up to him eagerly.
I wait for it. I welcome it.
It makes me question which one of us is the addict.
* * *
