Chasing After Infinity (2 page)

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
I sensed Hayden sit next to me and the earthy pine smell of him was so comforting that I immediately buried my face into his cotton shirt. He let me breathe and try to get a hold of myself, wrapping his arms around me firmly. I glanced up at his tired face, his eyes reflecting light and long lashes resting on his cheek when he closes them. Hayden, my best friend who I’ve met and known since kindergarten is the only one in this world who I’ll let him
see
me like this.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
“I don’t know how to handle this,” I whispered to his shirt, “I just don’t.”

“You’ll find a way,” he promised.

“I didn’t even get to say good bye.” Biting my lip so hard that the metallic taste of blood flows into my mouth, I closed my eyes against his skin.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
It was not happening. She wasn’t dead, she
couldn’t
 
be
.
Just a year ago, she was still alive, sick but still alive. We were still holding one of our Buffy rerun marathons, us eating a bowl of corn chips, laughing. She was still listening to my problems and was the shoulder to lean on when I cried. Still the one who I relied on, the person who would
put aside her time to help me with my homework, help me through my rough spots and the one who loved me unconditionally—whether I deserved it or not. And there were the bad times too.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
I still remembered the night I came home all drunk and dizzy from a late party and she was red with fury when I stepped through the front door. We’d screamed at each other, spat venom in the air until both of us ran out of words. I screamed ugly words at her, words that bit into her and left me regretful for far too long. Then two weeks later, she was diagnosed with
Sarcoidosis
, an inflammation in the lymph nodes and other tissues.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
It was hard watching my mom gradually change into something pale and feeble throughout the growing months. During hospital visits, she’d keep on saying over and over again to me that she’d beat the infection and win the fight. We were all determined. But as time went on, it was clear that the disease was evolving and killing her from the inside when her lung tissues started bleeding. And at last, it won.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
I gritted my teeth together and anger rose up in me like torrents of hot, bubbling frustration. Without thinking, I punched the wall behind me so hard that pain instantly flared from my torn knuckles.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Hayden reached for my hand, taken aback. “What did you do to yourself?”

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
I looked down to see blood sliding down the broken skin of my knuckles.
The red blurring my vision.
Sobs escaped from me and I hunched over, the last fraying threads of my self-control demolished.

Tears came like a waterfall as I started to silently cry. Tears that were locked in me for a very long time flooded out, dampening Hayden’s gray shirt.

The sharp pain in my heart grew to a deafening crescendo.

And in that moment, I realized that love’s too brittle because it was about trusting someone and giving them the power to hurt you.
To crush you.
It was just a delusion. The only way of winning was to not let emotions get in the way.

My heart, once whole, was now enclosed with thick pricking ice.
My glass heart.

Dizziness threatened to pull me under. Then I surrendered, falling into my grief.

chapter
one

AVENA

It’s already been a year. A numb year, filled with gray skies and colourless words lingering in the air. It’s only a matter of time before I crack.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Forgetting everything is my way out. It’s the only way out.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
The rhythmic pounding of the bass echoes in my ears, leaving behind a faint ringing sound.
Bright disco lights glitter across the walls, lighting up the otherwise dark room. The air is moist, stale and humid, filled with writhing, sweating bodies grinding out on the floor, screaming, and dancing wildly. Fruit punch glasses overflowing with beer are spilled around and the noises of laughter can barely be heard over the blasting rock music. I haven’t realized how hot it had gotten suddenly until I find the sweat clinging to my neck. The end-of-the-summer party is getting more raucous by the minute with the furniture being overthrown and the walls being spray-painted in neon green.

Feeling light-headed with the bass, I let myself be pulled along in the churning vortex of bodies. I don’t want to think. Only feel the music forceful in my bones. The lights explode under my lids, tingling in the stale air.

I’m being pushed toward a skater guy with bleached hair and he presses against my body, letting his hands rove over me. It’s something to block out the cold lack of feeling. I smile, the lights nearly blinding me, feeling drunk even though I haven’t even touched the beer yet. And the world goes round and round…

My mind is mush as we dance against each other and the other bodies around us, only half-aware of the music booming in the dim background. I’m beginning to feel feverish as I shut out all thought and lift my face to the dark ceiling. Erasing out the world, I let my body feel and move by its own accord. And then I feel the guy’s hands at the bottom of my shirt and moving up and it’s like a trigger has gone off as floods of vivid memories pour through me. I try to block them out, closing my eyes against them but they crawl up to the surface.
The hotel room.
Me, dazed and drunken, sprawled on the bed. His fingers unbuttoning my blouse, his mouth slanted over mine, tasting of the faint headiness of alcohol.

The flashback evaporates into wisps of smoke before my eyes. But the nauseous feeling remains in my stomach. Sloppily, I push away the guy who’d been dancing with me and he jeers. My earlier euphoria dissolves into a bitter taste in my mouth and the need to dance, to erase out the world, has vanished. Feeling spent, I weave through the collection of people, toward the keg in the centre. I fight the conflicting emotions inside me as I stumble through the threshold. Just as I’m about to turn around, a guy lurches against me, almost knocking me over. Nearly falling forward, I bump against a body who reaches out a hand to steady me.

“Whoa there.”
My vision fuzzy, I look up to see Adrian Huntington’s concentrated jade green eyes in front of me. He practically oozes sensuality with his loping, masculine movements, and half-lidded eyes. “I know I’m irresistible but keep the hands off.” He notices me. I can see the hint of an oncoming smirk.

I jerk my body away from him, giving him a glare to show that no; I’m not falling for his lines. I’ve heard too many sob stories from other girls to trust him the slightest bit. The best way to deal with a player was to not deal with him, not get involved. I knew what getting caught up with one was like first-hand. Everything always ended ugly.

“Hey, have I seen you around before?” He narrows his eyes at me, trying to figure out why I look familiar to him.

I clench my teeth as I reply, “I was in your Civics class last year.”

“Oh, I see,” he says. “You were that Avery or Abby-something?”

Annoyance rushes through me. “It’s
Avena
,” I reply frostily.

He flashes me a sinful smile as if he senses my unease of him. “Well,
Avena
, how do you like playing with fire?” His face is bent down in level to mine, noses centimetres apart, so close that I can see every one of his preposterously long dark lashes, and I have to tear my eyes away from his compelling smile. Something in me, my intuition, tells me that I should just go.

I move to push past him but he grabs my elbow. Acid churns in my stomach when I turn and recognize his half-amused expression.

Adrian looks down at me with a tilt of the head, still not moving a slight bit. He looks like he enjoys this.

I’m not in the mood to see who wins this challenge. “What do you want?”

“Are you always this surly towards people?”

 
“You got a problem with that?” I dare him with my eyes.

His hand moves from my elbow and he turns my hand upwards. “
Wha
—what are you doing?” I scoff, jerking away but he holds it in a
vicelike grip. His hand is warm and dry, the nerves dance under my skin, making me want to yank my hand back. The odd sensation disappears when I saw the flash of a pen and feel the ticklish feel of ink smoothly gliding over my palm. He lets me go then, looking wicked with laughter. My eyes go down to the perfect black letters that read “Surly
McCynic
.” Immediately, I try to scrub it off but it was useless.

Adrian unlatches himself from the wall lazily. “Well, I have a feeling I’ll be seeing more of you soon.” He smiles deeper, turns, and walks off into the mass of people.

I watch him disappear into the dancing throng and shake my head.
The unbearable sauciness of the
asshat
.

I make my way back to the main room, passing a group of people in the middle who are playing a game of strip poker. Several of them are already half-naked and they’re chugging down beer, laughing raunchily. I head the opposite direction to the kitchen. It’s emptier in there where there are only a few girls sitting and chatting. I open the fridge, disgruntled, and get out a Corona, chugging the icy cold beer down, leaving a light sweet feeling to immediately flow into me.

“Having a good time?” A voice whispers near me.

Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I close the fridge and find Hayden meandering near me, lounging on the stool.

I clap a hand over my zinging heart. “You pretty much live to make me go into cardiac arrest, huh?”

“I make you jumpy?”

Snorting, I just close the fridge with my foot and turn to look at him.

He grins, waggling his eyebrows as he snatches my beer from me and before I can stop him, drinks from it. “Well, I’ve always known you wanted me.”

Here comes the kinky side of him. “Don’t be any more repulsive than you can help. And that’s--” I grab the can from his fingers—“mine.”

Hayden rolls his eyes, tilting his head so that his tousled blond hair doesn’t get in the way. He’s been growing it out since July and the whole rebel rocker look somehow works on him. Fraying destroyed jeans and oversized headphones is his mantra. He has his hipbone resting against the countertops as he looks down at me. He’s holding a joint in his hands and taking a long drag. “You don’t look so good.”

I snort at his blatant remark, faking a heart attack by pressing a hand to my chest. “My ego just took a big hit.”

He smirks but it fades as he watches me swigging the beer rapidly. “But I’m serious, Ave, have you even gotten some sleep these past weeks?”

I don’t answer, just keeping on drinking my fill. I tip my head back, the can hovering to meet my lips, but he grabs my hand.

“Stop drinking so much.”

“Or what?”
I say defiantly.

 
“This.” Then he locks my arms together and begins to tickle my sides, the thing I detest the most in the world. I fall against the island, writhing around and batting him off, hiccupping and trying hard not to laugh hysterically because that will mean giving in to him.