Page 66 of Shiver
Finally he moves. Picks up his backpack with all his school books and then his hockey bag with his gear. I move aside so he can get out the door. He does and I wait for him to move further into the hall before I follow him out, my messenger bag over my shoulders.
“I’ll see you tonight?” Egon asks.
I can’t bring myself to lie to him. I’ve lied enough. Telling him I’d take care of him. That no one would hurt him. I’ve lied enough that I could fill a bank with them.
I don’t meet his eyes as I move past him toward the stairs. His voice stops me.
“Rake.”
There’s so much emotion and hurt in that one word, I freeze. My eyes sting. “I’ll text you,” I say quietly. And I will.
He doesn’t stop me as I run to the stairwell. I stop for just a second to suck in a breath before racing down them and out the door.
I’ve always liked who I am. I’ve been proud of the person I am. Proud of my accomplishments. Of my intelligence. That I’m fairly well-rounded, healthy, and successfully obtaining my goals, one victory at a time.
None of that matters. The more distance I put between me and Egon, the more I hate myself. Every step makes one of those victories meaningless. Empty. Every pang in my chest, every time my stomach churns, threatening to regurgitate bile since there’s no fucking food in it, I realize how awful a person I am. With every dizzying step toward my office and the way my eyes sting, I know that I’m a piece of shit.
It was necessary. All of it. Because I can’t be what he needs. Eventually he’ll see that. He’ll know. He’ll know that I was such a fucking coward that I couldn’t even tell him that it was over. That we were done. That what we had was nothing. It was sex. I wanted sex. That’s it. Just fun.
I couldn’t tell him because I’d not have been able to do so and keep myself together because it’s a lie as much as it’s the truth. I don’t have the emotional capacity or maturity to be what Egon deserves. And now, he’s forced to find someone he does.
A week. He just needs a week. Then he’ll be fine.
Laying my head down on my desk. I let my tears fall. Just for a minute. Because I know Egon will be fine. He’s strong and perfect and easy to love.
He’ll be fine.
I might not be.
Egon deserves someone to love him and take care of him in the way he needs them to. In a way I can’t. He will find someone to make him their top priority. To cherish him and support him and make sure he understands that he’s fucking amazing. That person isn’t me.
A pain cuts through my chest and I welcome it.Thisis what I deserve.
TWENTY-FOUR
EGON
I could feelit all weekend. Something tense in Rake. The way he touched me. The way he looked at me, barely able to meet my eyes. The way we spoke. There was something in the way we fucked but I couldn’t quite point to what it was.
It was still good. Everything about it was absolutely world changing. I was naïve enough to think that it was just sex with Rake. He was my god. The only thing I wanted and revolved around him. He’d cracked so many sealed chests inside me until I was raw in front of him. But he didn’t just open them for me, showing me that they were there. He answered them, too.
Every need or desire I had no idea I had. Every little broken piece inside me. All those neglected shards that made me feel weak, worthless, and unwanted. Since the day Rake walked into my life, I was seen. He acknowledged all those pieces.
But Monday morning, at the valley we fell into after the desperate sex all Sunday that felt like a hurricane, I realized I didn’t know Rake at all. In all the time we talked, it was me talking. He took care of my needs. He asked about my life. I only got superficial things in return.
When he flew out of bed, nearly landing on the opposite side of the room on Monday morning, I already felt the tear. The seam between us that knit us together had already been pulled taut and it just snagged. I could hear the rip as if it echoed in my head.
He stayed in the bathroom for what felt like an entire day. And when he came out, he didn’t look at me. Wouldn’t. I showered when he insisted and left when he made me. But at that point, I felt out of control. Helpless. Drowning. So fucking hurt.
And I didn’t know why. Why he wouldn’t look at me. Why he was so cold.
The tears I felt running down my face made him cringe away further. He was in a hurry to get away from me. I was a weak, pathetic mess that he suddenly realized he didn’t want. Why would he? Why would he want a man that fucking cries like a baby?
I watched him run, the only thing he said was that he’d text me. Rake has never lied to me. Ever. But as I went through the day and my phone was mockingly silent, I thought maybe there was a first for everything.
He had lied. Maybe he’d lied before, and I was just gullible enough to believe it all.
I meander through the day in a daze. My mind is empty, yet conjures up every single conversation it can think of and I wonder when it went wrong. What had I said? Had he not liked that I came so easily for him? Did he hate the way I touched him? Maybe he didn’t like the way I kissed. I was too desperate, wasn’t I? Too clingy?
