Page 42 of Unwrap Him

I have to get out of here.

Just hiding out in my bedroom isn’t cutting it anymore. I need to leave.

I need space and I need to figure out what the fuck I’m doing.

For some reason, the last two days have flipped a switch, and things I’ve been wanting, craving for years, have come to fruition.

But it’s not glamorous. It’s not happy and sexy and exciting anymore, like it was only a couple of hours ago. Now it’s damaging, and painful. It hurts.

My heart feels like too much for my chest, and my stomach is in knots as I get dressed in jeans and a pullover. I texted Tanner, asking if he wanted to meet up… and I don’t know why.

I don’t want to see him. I don’t want any of the mildly entertaining things we’ve done together, in secret, of course, because no one can ever love me out in the open, apparently. I’m nothing but a dirty tryst, to everyone, and I can’t fucking take it anymore.

But I don’t know where else to go. All my other friends are busy with their families or their relationships. The only person who’s been consistently texting me is Tanner. Because he wants to get his dick wet.

I understand that. I know he’s using me, but at this point, I’d rather be used by some dumb jock who means almost nothing to me than the man I live with… The man I’m hopelessly in love with, who can never give me back what I’m desperate to give him.

So I rush downstairs and step into my boots, praying James won’t notice as I shrug into my coat and grab my car keys. He’s probably off in some corner of the house, hiding from me anyway.

Whipping open the front door, I step out into the frigid air, trekking down the snowy steps as wind pelts sleet at my face. It’s afternoon, but somehow dark from the weather, the skies gray and rippling with cold, icy condensation. I stomp the walkway as fast as I can while still trying to be careful, not wanting to slip and fall. James put salt down everywhere yesterday to combat the ice forming, but it’s still there.

Jumping into my car quickly, I start the engine and it roars to life. I have an STI, a little beast of a sedan in cobalt blue that James got me last year for my birthday. It’s fully loaded and pretty much the most badass thing ever, though right now I can’t appreciate any of that. I’m too focused on getting the fuck out of here. Escaping the bullshit piling high in my life to the point of suffocation.

My breaths are heavy as I give the car only a moment to warm up before I’m backing out of our driveway.

The second I get onto the main road, I’m nervous. The roads are really bad. My car is all-wheel drive, a necessity living in Maine, but still. I can feel the tires slipping as I pull off, picking up speed quicker than I normally would in these conditions, because I’m so fucking eager to put distance between me and that house.

The radio station is still where I last left it, playing Christmas songs at low volume. That Wham! song they play to death is on, and right now it’s really irking me more than it usually does. The lyrics are crooning about giving your heart to someone special, and I want to retch.

This fucking sucks.

Glancing at the screen, I contemplate switching to one of my playlists through the Bluetooth. I want to rage right now. I want angry music about heartbreak, not this dumbass whining in my ears. But I can’t take my attention away from the roads. My wipers are on mid-to-high speed, and it’s still difficult to see with all the snow and sleet flying at my windshield, practically blinding me.

Driving for only about a mile, my speed picks up, and I’m so distracted by the bleak state of my life, I barely notice my foot pressing further and further down on the gas.

I can’t believe how stupid I am. I can’t even fathom that all of this is happening as a result of me crossing a line in my sleep.

This is what happens when you stifle your subconscious for so long. When you want someone so badly it blurs out everything else, and you end up stumbling over the edge of rational thought and action, into the exact thing you’ve been keeping locked up tight.

My heart worked with my brain and my body, conspiring to fuck me over. And that’s exactly what happened.

I fucked everything up, and I’m sick over it.

What did I really think would happen?? James would hook up with me a few times and realize he loves me back, as more than a guardian? That he would throw caution to the wind and agree to more with me, just because of how badly I want it?

As angry as I am, he’s right. No one could ever understand…

Look at Woody Allen, for fuck’s sake. He married his adopted daughter and has been permanently labeled a creep. And he didn’t even raise her from that young, I don’t think!

I mean… I’m not sure I want to compare James to a creepy old man, or me to... whoever his child-wife was, regardless of how popular his films are. I don’t even know… I’m just… Losing it.

Ugh. Fuck this. Fuck love, fuck feelings, fuck the best goddamn sex I’ve ever had or could ever imagine… Fuck everything.

Speeding the street with my head fogged by nonsense, I hit a patch of ice, and my car swerves. The steering wheel vibrates from the traction control, the tires attempting to grip at a surface too slick, and I fishtail.

Not much, but still. It scares the fuck out of me.

And something flashes through my brain.

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