Page 24 of Tears and Other Fears

“You like him.”

“I like lots of people,” I retorted.

“Like you like Young? Like you like me? Like you liked Samuel? A lot of people have been entering your life lately. You have impulse control issues and get attached easily. I don’t want to see you get hurt, Octavia.”

I fumed so hard I could have caught the concrete under my feet on fire. “You taught me all about the dangers of attachments, Noah,” I brooded.

“You’re right. I hurt you. I fucked up. I made a poor decision, and you suffered for it. I don’t want to see that happen again.”

I watched a businessman to my left flag down a taxi and get in the backseat. I then stared at a coffee shop nearby where a couple was sitting and sipping on caffeine. “It’s not going to happen again, Noah.”

“How can you be sure?” he asked.

“Because I learned my lesson. I don’t let people in anymore.”

“That’s not a way to live, Octavia. I know you’re hurting but—”

“I’m not hurting, motherfucker!” I screamed, interrupting him. Hurting seemed far too easy of a description for what I was going through; it was a cop out. People turned to stare at our showdown on the street. “I’m depressed! For some people, depression is like an empty room. For others, it’s a scream. For me? It’s like I’m up against this solid, concrete wall, and the only tool I have to bring it down is this fucking metal spoon stuck in my gut. I’m constantly digging through layers of flesh with my dull fingernails just to get to it, but I know it’s not enough. My sadness is like an out of tune flute playing a masterpiece. My anger is like bobbing for apples in a bucket of blood. Grief isn’t lateral—it’s a maze. And you dropped me in the middle of it.”

Noah looked like I’d slapped him across the cheek. I watched my words sink in, my glorious breakthrough ripping him to shreds. Any average therapist would be happy; I finally spat out the feelings in my head, but Noah and I were never healthy. I crushed him with the truth, and I wanted to do it again.

Chapter 14

Sixteen hours,forty-three minutes, and seventeen seconds. That’s how long I gave Young to work through his issues. That was enough time, right? I’d decided that he’d been simmering in the boiling pot I’d given him long enough.

Noah was sleeping on a pallet on the floor when I snuck past him and left the hotel. We got nowhere last night. No closure, no hate sex. Nothing. He just watched me fume and asked questions about life. I wasn’t prepared for my toxic therapist to actually start taking his job seriously.

How do you feel about Young needing space?

Describe your mental state right now.

Do you want to talk about Samuel?

My mental state was obsessed with Young’s need for space and Samuel’s fucked up selfishness. I never was one for saying the obvious and couldn’t for the life of me understand why Noah kept asking me questions we both knew the answer to.

I never did walks of shame. I usually wore my rumpled hair and the shirt of my victims with pride. And even though I didn’t have sex last night, I finally understood what it meant to walk four blocks with a broken pride and pounding heart. I didn’t have to look in the mirror to know that my eyes were shadowed and my clothes were wrinkled. I was a mess of epic proportions, and nothing seemed right.

Once at Young’s penthouse, I opened the door, using my key, and froze the moment I saw who was standing on the other side. Samuel motherfucking Smith. He was shirtless and cooking bacon when he whirled around to greet me. There was a content smile on his face, but it dropped the moment he saw me. “Octavia, what are you doing here?”

“What areyoudoing here?” I countered.

“I live here. Dad was pissy last night—no thanks to you—so I came home.”

I tilted my head back and laughed like I was some fucking evil villain on a television show. It was manic and deep. Angry and resigned. “You poor thing. I’m so sorry your wittle daddy had an issue with your drug dealing. Did he spank you, Samuel? Did you like it?”

“Shut the fuck up, Octavia. Nathaniel said you were gone. Said he needed space after you fucked that asshole, Renon.” I swallowed the spit collecting in my mouth while lifting my chin. I glared at Samuel while plotting Young’s death. It was a fresh sort of hurt, knowing that Young went to Samuel to discussme. Every cell in my body revolted.

Samuel put down the spatula in his hand and stalked over to me, those piercing eyes sweeping across my body in amusement. I felt like prey caught in his trap. “Did he make you feel nothing, Octavia? That’s your kink, isn’t it? He fucked you so hard you didn’t think about how pathetic and lonely you are? Did he punish your pussy like I did? Did he fight with his tongue, make you writhe on my floor? Did you think of me?”

“Shut up,” I gritted while stalking closer.

“That’s right, baby. Come here. Let me kiss your crazy away. You thought my dad would give a fuck about William, didn’t you? How does it feel knowing that even with the truth out, no one cares?”

I didn’t understand his emotional whiplash. One second he was crying on the floor beneath his father’s hard stare, and the next he was taunting me. I hardly recognized him from the man I saw at the coffee shop, the yearning in his smile had turned predatory, and I didn’t like the way his eyes swept up and down my body.

“I’m invincible, Octavia. Even when slapped with the truth, Nathaniel picked me. He’salwayspicked me. He’s always saved me.” Samuel looked smug as hell, and I hated it.

“You’re perfect for each other, Samuel,” I gritted. “It’s a delicate game, playing the victim. You have to hide venom in your chess pieces while you work the board. It isn’t skill or heart that helps you win; you just make your opponent pity the Queen.”

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