“You watched me?” I ask, confused.
“Yes, I saw you. I promised Maggie I would help her put the last of the furniture together, and as I was leaving, you came. Fuck, Finn, you were fucking beautiful, but the look on your face, in your fancy-ass car. It was too much.”
“Colt, I was in mourning. Of course, I looked like an asshole,” I mutter, affronted.
“I know,” he says on a frustrated breath, “but I didn’t know then. All I knew was that your mom died. Shit Finn, I-“
“Shouldn’t that have been enough?”
“Probably yes, but you fucking wouldn’t leave my head, Finn. You know how I feel about that shit, and you fucking crawled in and wouldn’t leave. It pissed me off!”
The bell rings, and I look around. I’m late for first period. My mind is reeling with his revelations, but a part of me still doesn’t believe.
Looking at him sadly, I say softly, “None of this matters, Colt. I don’t even know if you’re telling me the truth right now.”
His eyes drop, his mouth curling into a grim smile, “Maybe so, but it is the truth, Finn. Maybe we’re like fire and ice, but you are mine, and I intend to show you.”
“I'm not yours, Colt. I’m no one’s. Besides, you said so yourself, love makes people do crazy things. Why would I want to be with you when you can’t see your way past your fears to allow someone into your heart?”
“You’re already fucking there,” he says harshly.
My chest clenches at his words, but I push it away at the pained look in his eyes because I can’t. I just can’t.
“Then why do you look so miserable?”
“Because I never wanted this,” he bellows.
Smiling sadly, I run my hand down his cheek, marveling at the beauty before me, murmuring, “That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”
Pulling away, I walk off, and thankfully he doesn’t follow. Perhaps Colt’s taken off to lick his own wounds, but he leaves me alone for the remainder of the day, and while part of me feels vindicated my suspicions were correct, the other part is scared to believe.
Maybe Colt did back away because of his parents and his fears, but how can I ever know? It’s too late - I can never trust him again.
Letting myself inside the house after school, I collapse on the couch and allow myself a moment of self-indulgence, sifting through the memories of Colt and me when everything was special.
The way he held my face when he kissed me and looked into my eyes as he moved inside of me or how his eyes lit up when he spoke to me and our cuddle fest when I was getting over pneumonia.
All this surrounded by the ugly, he shoved down my throat. Because he was what? Scared? Is that good enough? Fuck, I don’t even know. Because I don’t know if I believe him.
*****
I still have no clue what to do about Sarah. I should’ve called the cops, but she didn't do anything other than freak me out. Besides, the students around here believe in solving their problems the old-fashioned way - I’d be back to public enemy number one if I snitched.
Despite her desperation, I don’t think she’s my fan. Just a sad, pathetic girl who can’t let go of reality.
Texting Teddy, I ask him what he thinks I should do, and he says rather pointedly I should avoid her at all costs and tell Colt.
But I’m still confused about Colt. What if this is a game? For all I know, he’s canoodling with her right now and laughing about my bitch move of running.
Gah.
Sick of my own thoughts, I roll over on the couch and stare at the ceiling. I miss Colt. I miss how he used to sit with me and watch television. I miss how he would stroke my hair.
Sometimes I would look his way, and he’d be staring at me with a soft expression, and it’s those moments I clutched to my chest when he turned distant and cold.
*****
Colt’s unusually quiet the remainder of the week as though he regrets his passionate words, and I ignore the pulse of pain his reticence causes, wishing for once I could look past this broken boy, but I guess it’s not meant to be.
I haven’t received any new notes, but the specter hangs over my head, reminding me Colt’s better off keeping his distance.
Friday evening rolls around, and I’m so caught up in my thoughts that I almost forget about Hayden and his demand to attend a party with him.
With barely any time, I throw on some cute jeans and a low-cut top, touching up my makeup and tousling my hair.
I have no idea what this is about, and it’s more than likely a bad idea, but I’m curious, so I move ahead. Maggie had the doors and windows replaced with something top of the market that’s supposed to keep the harshest attackers at bay. It’s better than nothing but doesn’t cure the foreboding weighing heavily on my chest.
Halfheartedly, I wait by the door, pulling it open when he knocks on it shortly after I’ve assembled myself. And giving me an approving once over to which I roll my eyes, I follow him to the car and slide into the passenger seat.
“Where are we going anyway?”
“You’ll see,” he says with a smirk, pulling away with a squeal of tires that makes me sigh.
Hayden’s not much of a conversationalist, which is fine because I’m still brooding when we pull onto the freeway.
But after a while, I can’t contain my curiosity, and since Hayden can’t escape, I ask, “What’s the deal with that girl Portia?”
“Portia?” he says with bemusement. “Where did that come from?”
“A conversation with Nate,” I say impatiently.
“Of course,” he mutters, “stupid fuck.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Nothing, he just never could stand being told no.
