Chasing After Infinity (16 page)

It’s just the two of us.

"I'm sorry," he says, so quietly that at first I didn't even hear him.
"For believing the rumors."
I try to say something back, my lips opening to find the words but for some reason, I can't speak.
His eyes are too mesmerizing and as my cheek is pressed against his shirt, I can only feel dizzy.

Then my eyes slide close as exhaustion pulls me under.

chapter
thirteen

AVENA

I’m not letting you go.

I fight the splintering darkness threatening to consume me. My swollen eyelids flicker open and the first thing I see are sterile, white walls.
The familiar walls of St. Maurice’s hospital from where I used to spend the majority of my time beside my mom.
Everything is burning, from the plane of my left cheek to my lungs. I try to move on the small linen bed but waves of nausea choke me, making me retch. I long for the quiet numbness of sleep but it doesn’t come. I try to close my eyes again,
settling back into the sheets, biting myself against it, but the memory of why I’m here still rushes over me nonetheless.

There’s no hiding.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
“You’re awake.”

There is no mistaking him as Adrian emerges, his dark hair mussed. When he comes closer, I see that his shirt is wrinkled and a few blood stains mar the fine fabric. He sits on the bed, looking down at me.

“How long have I been here?” My voice is still raspy, dying from the lack of water. The taste in my mouth is rank and dour.

“Not long, you’ve passed out only a few hours ago,” he says. “The nurse just went to do some final check-ups and they did quite a few tests, you’ve been ordered to just lie here and wait.”

I nod tiredly, my gaze sweeping over to a mirror hanging on the opposite wall. I almost don’t recognize the girl sitting up on the bed in the reflection. I focus on the huge red flaming welt across the side of her cheek. I remember the basketball slamming into my face and my hands haven’t even had the time to cover myself. I trace my eyes lower and the girl is sitting up, wearing a stained t-shirt and jeans with the thread loose and rips in which friction with the gym floor have caused. Bruises cover her lower pale arms, some purple, and others a dull red. I swallow, turning away.

Too much.
I turn my head sharply back to Adrian.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
My eyes are sliding close again but I’m still watching him through half-lidded eyes. Adrian is still gazing at me and he reaches over to touch the cut on my eyebrow. I don’t wince—I can’t give in. But he must’ve seen the flash in my eyes because he lets go.

I don’t understand.

I must have said it aloud because Adrian says in his usual flippant way, “What do you not understand?”

How you switch from being cold, devilish and aloof, keeping everyone at a distance, to being suddenly melancholy and absent. How it’s like push and
pull
with you. How I’m feeling so dizzy right now. “I don’t know why they won’t let me go yet. I mean, no broken bones, or knocked out teeth, right?”

“They probably want to call your parents. Tell them that you’ve been in a schoolyard brawl.” Then inevitably, the unbreakable mask breaks and one corner of his lips slide into that familiar smile.

Parents
.
I used to take that word for granted. How the plural form still twists me.

I can’t face everything right now. My bones are aching and
godammit
, I just can’t deal with it right now—

 
“My dad’s probably not even home. And my mom’s dead.”

I don’t know why the words slip out. This has left me feeling vulnerable and for once, in a few weeks, I can’t keep up with my stone hard exterior anymore.

Silence falls over us like a foot of fresh snow. I can feel the heat of his gaze on me but I don’t look at him. “Please don’t, with all the sympathies and crap,” I say.

His voice loses its edge. “When did it happen?”

A hard lump is in my throat. “Last May. She had a rare lung infection.”

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
His eyes look into me, blurrily green. The green whirlpool of swirling, acrid emotions inside them, however unidentifiable and strange,
is something that I can’t drag my eyes away from.
Because it tugs inside deep within me.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
“Look, I know the feeling of what it’s like to fight something you can’t win,” he says absently, staring at something behind my head.

Air comes out of me. “Adrian…”

And this time, I recognize that scatter of emotions in his eyes. Surprise, guardedness, collapse, then a sort of sadness that I know can never be erased. Something I know all just too well. All in a few seconds, the blend flits past in his eyes.

I blink. And it all disappears.

I struggle against the emotions that ripple through me.

“But.
Don’t submit. Never surrender yourself to that feeling.
Because if you do, it’ll win.”

He’s right. This is not over yet. It has only just begun.

Ψ
Ψ
Ψ
 

After the doctor checked my blood pressure, my bones and took a few x-rays, the nurse finally reported that the examination was done and I was fine and ready to go. Adrian drove me back to my house and the entire car ride comprises of dead silence. When we finally pull up to my house, I feel a rush of relief. The lights are out and I guess that my dad hasn’t come home yet and it is going to just me all over again. A sense of loneliness courses through me but I push against the pang.

Adrian cruises his Mercedes into my crumbly driveway, leaving the engine idling. The still silence in the car is suddenly overbearing.

“Well, thanks. For everything,” I say, breaking the tranquility, my
cheeks burning
as I unbuckle my seatbelt.

He stops me from getting out with one hand on the car door, blocking my way out.

“What?” I unconsciously say, looking back at him.

Adrian pauses and those green eyes burn into me. “Care to explain what happened two years ago?” His gaze is penetrating, yet his tone is light. “When Michaels took those pictures?”

I hesitate, contemplating whether I should tell him or not. Trusting him is like trusting a fox. But there’s something in his eyes that makes me relent. “I was dating his friend, Brent Jorgensen, I was in the tenth grade, and he was a year older than me.”

He doesn’t say anything, waiting for me to elaborate.
 

I sigh. There’s no way of sugar coating it. “At first, I thought that it was flattering that someone like him would pay that much attention to me but later, when I look back, the attention was probably for all the wrong reasons.”

I refuse to meet his gaze, looking out the window instead. “I was the clueless child that he yanked around. I fell for him. And his stupid lies. He used me for fun and I let him.”

That’s enough for him to know. Squaring my shoulders, I finally look at him. “So do you get it now?”

His green eyes are tempestuous, the blaze dulling.

Then he half grins. I don’t expect it. “Yeah, now I know that I should never go for someone older than me.”

He smiles when my hand darts out and pushes his right shoulder.

“You’re such a pig. This is touching matter to me, alright?” All of the earlier tension melts. It’s so like him. He says something totally insensitive just when I think he might be alright.

“Excuse me, but I’m not a heart-to-heart kind of person.”

I snort. “Yeah, that’s because you don’t
have
a heart.”

“Okay, that’s it. You’re good.” Adrian sweeps his eyes over me, smirking. “Back there, I thought that you were almost delirious when you swooned in my arms.”

Annoyance seeps into me. All of his earlier reflective and sobriety has faded from my mind. No matter what, he’s still the complete
asshole
underneath
.

“Well, thanks
a lot
for everything, Huntington,” I say sarcastically, opening his car door and getting out.

“Glad to be of service,” he calls out to me.

I slam his Mercedes door extra hard, hoping that it will come off the hinge. No such luck. I storm towards the porch, not the dramatic effect I was looking for because I was still limping a bit.

Closing the door behind me, I lean against the back. He confuses me. There is no doubt about that.

On my way to the fridge to get some ice cream to soothe my frazzled nerves, I see that there are two new messages from Kara beeping on the phone. She’s probably all worried about me, wanting to know if I was alright. I pick the cordless phone up and dial her number.

“Hello?
Avena
?”
Kara’s concerned voice is on the other side after two rings. I tell her that it’s me and she gasps.
“You bad little girl.
You’ve been keeping stuff from me, huh?”

“Huh?”

“You.
Adrian. I mean, come on, he, the one who doesn’t care about none other but himself, rushed in the fight,” she says. “That’s more than any girl has gotten out of him.”

I think back to his smile in the car as he drives off. “He wasn’t trying to save me. He was trying to make himself look like the white knight gliding in to save the day.”

 
“He
is
though,” Kara presses, the swoony smile evident in her tone. She sighs. “But anyway, you’re back from the hospital, right?”

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
“Yeah, I’m fine, don’t worry. We took a few X-rays and nothing’s broken. Just a little bruised and my cheek is aching,” I tell her, wincing slightly.

“So did he put salve on your wounds?” Kara almost sounds like a teenage girl in hopeless love.
“So swoon-worthy.”

I roll my eyes. “This isn’t a soap opera. Adrian isn’t Doug Williams and frankly, I think he’ll never be. He’s just a broken player.
Literally and figuratively.”

But Kara doesn’t let up. “Oh, Adrian,” she moans in a high-pitched voice. “
Careful, that
hurts,
oooh
--”

“Shut up!” I try to shush her but she keeps on going with that act, laughing.

I close my eyes. I refuse to be that kind of girl.
The one that’s too in love to let it go.

After we hang up, I climb the stairs to my bedroom and gaze at my reflection in the full-length mirror mounted on my closet. My jaw is tender to touch and there’s still the matter of the flaming red welt across
my face. I lift my shirt so I can see the damage. Bruises snake across my ribs, intangible shapes across my lower legs.

I search the drawer in my night table. My fingers move over pills and tampons until I find the Tylenol. Swallowing two tablets, the water feels good down my burning throat. Then I just fall into my bed and pretend that everything’s okay.

 
Ψ
Ψ
Ψ
 

I never expected this.

As soon as I walk into
Eiernhill
the next day, everyone goes into a subtle hush and almost even parts the way for me like the sea as I pass through the crowd. I expected a full riot against me, complete with pitchforks and yelling but no, this is way worse. It’s almost scary, really, this newfound strange respect. Immediately after I leave but within earshot, they start whispering urgently.