Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 149510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 748(@200wpm)___ 598(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 748(@200wpm)___ 598(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Embarrassment and shame and anger and hate are balloons inside my chest, each one filling with air until I feel like my rib cage might burst.
Even once I’m out of the house, I don’t stop running.
Every laugh or howl I hear from a student on the way triggers my panic further, and I pick up my pace. My side pinches from the exertion, my breathing erratic and shallow from the combination of running and crying. A car honks as I run directly in front of it on Amsterdam Avenue, and I twist my ankle trying to get to the other side and fall hands first into the sidewalk. I try to gather myself quickly, but the sting in both my overexerted lungs and ankle takes me directly back down. All I want to do is get back to my dorm and lock myself away forever, and I can’t even do that.
A strangled scream escapes my lungs and my arms flail in front of me to fight off an unknown attacker as something touches my shoulder, but Finn squats in front of me and holds down my arms, his voice a whisper. “It’s okay, Scottie. It’s just me. It’s okay.”
His face is kind and patient, his eyes undeniably warm. He looks exactly like he did the day I met him.
This time, though, I’m gushing blood from my heart. I don’t think he’ll be able to stop the flow with a tissue this time.
“No.” I shake my head, my face a mess of tears and runny makeup, and lock my gaze with his. “This isn’t okay. Nothing is okay right now! Did you see what happened?” I choke on saliva again, my whole body shaking. “What did I do to deserve something like this?” I question the universe.
He answers even though the question isn’t for him. “Nothing, Scottie. This isn’t your fault.”
“All my life, all my mom has done is fuck things up. That’s all she’s done. My whole life, Finn. My whole life has been affected by her fuckups. And Dane and Nadine?” The instant I say their names, I want to puke. “What the hell are they trying to do? Ruin my life? Like, is that the goal?” By the end of my rant, my sweater is wet from my tears and snot runs unchecked from my nose.
“You didn’t do anything to deserve this,” he repeats, his thumb wiping away tear after tear.
Carefully and gently, he picks me up to my feet again and pulls me into a hug.
A deep, guttural sob leaves my body as I bury my face and my tears into his shirt. He stands there, in the middle of the sidewalk, holding me with the tightest embrace.
“I’m here. Whatever you need, I’m here,” he whispers into my hair.
I cry harder, his sympathy too much for my already shattered heart. I know he’s trying to comfort me, but I don’t know if I like the way it’s making me feel.
Knowing he was there, knowing he saw it all happening in real time, is a crushing humiliation. After everything we’ve been through, everything he’s done to push me away? I don’t want his pity.
“I think I need to go home,” I whisper, and he leans back to meet my eyes.
“Scottie, I’m so sorry,” he says. His brown eyes are sad and apologetic, but I don’t need his token apologies. I don’t need empty words and confused affections. I need someone I can rely on, and sadly, right now, that’s me. “I wish—”
“Stop,” I cut him off before he can say any more. “It’s too much, Finn. Another back-and-forth with you. I just can’t handle that right now. I need to be alone,” I tell him, pulling away from his embrace completely.
“I can’t leave you alone right now,” he surprises me by insisting.
“Finn, just go, okay? Let me be.”
He shakes his head. “It’s late and you’re upset, and I need to make sure you get back to your dorm okay.”
“I don’t need you!” I yell, frustrated that he won’t give me the space I’m asking for. “I don’t need anything from you or anyone. I just want to be left alone.” I spin on my heel and start walking back down the street, a small limp challenging my gait, but when I hear that his footsteps are right behind me, anger makes my legs churn faster.
“Go away!” I call over my shoulder, not even bothering to look in his direction. “Just go away!”
He doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t stop following me either.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out, thinking it’s Kayla or Julia, but all I’m faced with are more social media notifications than I have ever had in my life. Morbid curiosity makes me look, and when I see all the tags on TikTok and Instagram and Snapchat, the nausea in my stomach is so strong that I have to stop in the middle of the sidewalk again.