Shh! (26 page)

You didn’t.

That was the cowardly way out. Equal to walking out at six a.m. I wasn’t ready to face him yet. Heck, the way I’d been feeling last night, I was pretty sure that I loved him, and that only made this whole thing a billion times worse. I shouldn’t have let myself get into such a mess. I curled myself into a tight ball under the covers on my bed, and holding the phone to my chest, I cried.

Like the words, time blurred.

Sometime later there was a knock on my door. I’d been expecting it, but that didn’t make it any easier. I pulled my head under the covers as Logan bashed on the door and said my name. I wasn’t ready for his talk. I still didn’t know what to say. It stopped after a few minutes and a silent sob tore from my aching throat. Then my phone rang. I stuffed it under my pillow, but it was too late.

“I know you’re in there, Olivia, I can hear your phone. Please …” Something broke inside of me, right near where my heart lived. “Let me in.”

I covered my face with my hands and held my breath to keep everything inside of me. I couldn’t … I couldn’t look him in the eye and share that knowledge. I’d have to eventually, but not right now.

Logan stayed out there way longer than I thought he would. He didn’t knock again, but I knew he was there because I could hear him talking. At first I thought he was speaking with someone in the hallway, but when I crept to the door and slid down against it, I could hear his words more clearly. They were like a mantra.

“Please … stop running.”

I turned around and pressed my cheek against the cold wood, my palm right beside it, and I didn’t try to stop my heart from tearing.

****

Maybe it was a sick obsession or maybe it was a need to know for certain; a desperate plea that maybe, possibly, there was an iota of hope that I could be with Logan.

That I wasn’t really broken after all.

I twisted the computer around to point at my bed and opened up the program Google had directed me to for the job I wanted to carry out, then I clicked the appropriate buttons, switched off the lights and climbed into bed. My heart beat a nervous rhythm. There was so much relying on this single night.

That’s probably why sleep didn’t come easily.

I tossed and turned and tossed some more. I thought about Logan and about last night. How I was a coward for walking out on him while he slept. How I could have possibly gotten that drunk. There was the vile shot then the cocktail Logan gave me. The lemonade from Savvy must have been laced too. Heck, maybe I’d had more drinks than just those three. My memory was a little hazy after we started dancing, just flashes here and there, not a solid block from point A in time to point B. That somehow made me more nervous. I couldn’t even remember how I got to his house, or why I would have suggested going there instead of coming back here.

I sat up and yanked my hair back off my face, twisting it into a braid. Maybe a glass of water would help me to settle. I tiptoed out of my room and down the hall. It was late, but there were still doors open and lights on. Thankfully none I had to pass in order to reach the kitchenette. I filled my glass from the tap and made my way back to my room. Just as I reached for the door, I saw it.

A bunch of autumn leaves pinned to my door.

My heart constricted at the message he’d left me and I pulled the door closed behind me, switched the light off and crawled back into bed, my mind torturing me with happy images of Logan. The day he’d taken me to the waterfall, the afternoon at the lookout, the first time we’d made love. The stupid giant love heart I’d drawn in the autumn leaves. All the inconsequential hours spent doing absolutely nothing special. But that was just it. Time with Logan was never not special, and I was lucky to have stolen the little bit of precious time that I had.

He’d eventually left this afternoon. I felt terrible for not letting him in, but I couldn’t stand to see the look on his face when he told me what happened last night. What I’d done in his bed. Beside him.

I needed to stop thinking about him if I was going to make my mind sleep.

One hundred.

Ninety-nine.

Ninety-eight.

Ninety-seven.

Asking someone to love you when you kept them awake every night doing inappropriate things just wasn’t right.

Ninety-six.

Nor was it something I could ever do.

Ninety-five.

Ninety-four.

The countdown continued.

****

I woke up slowly, then with a sudden jolt as my mind kicked into gear and I remembered the webcam pointed at my bed. I shot up and pressed stop, then hovered over the program, staring at the frozen image of me reaching for the mouse. The frigid air bit through my thin PJs and my skin broke out in goose bumps. Why was it always so flipping freezing here? It only took another few seconds of hovering before I caved and dove back into the warmth of my bed. It was as if I were torn in two. Part of me was dying to watch the footage and see how the night had played out, but the other part was scared out of her mind of what she’d see.

I couldn’t hide in bed forever though. Or maybe I could. Maybe if I stayed here long enough, shoved my head deep under the covers, I’d wake up and it would have all been a bad dream. Or rather, a nightmare.

Not likely.

I hauled my butt out of bed along with the top blanket, and wrapped it around my shoulders, then with a resigned sigh, plonked myself in the swivel chair and clicked play. The night vision was kind of weird. Everything was in shades of grey and even though I was a shadow, I was clearly visible. The covers made me a mound though. Hopefully they wouldn’t make it too hard to see. In retrospect, I probably should have cranked up the heat and slept on top of them. With each passing minute of nothing but the dark shape that was me tossing and turning, the anticipation made my empty tummy shiver and my legs bounce. I skipped through the first hour then sat and watched for about fifteen minutes. It was worse than reality TV.

Nothing happened, and I guess that was good.

I picked up my phone and the screen was black. Dead Flat. Sighing, I put it on to charge. Then, with the video still playing, I started moving about my day; shoving books into my bag together with my purse and a few pieces of fruit. I still felt like crap and didn’t want to face a day of classes, especially not Socio, but with each passing minute the image of me peacefully sleeping remained on-screen, and my mood felt a tad brighter. Maybe Logan and I weren’t doomed after all.

I picked up my brush and ran it through my long hair, untangling the knot—

I froze.

I was moving.

On-screen.

The covers almost … were they dancing? My heart dropped into my toes and I moved closer to the computer. The me on-screen had her head tipped back, her face away from the camera and her chin pointing upwards.Her back arched like a she couldn’t get enough. Sound came from the speakers, but it wasn’t clear enough to make out. I swallowed against a dry throat and turned the volume up.

Moaning.
And not the kind you do when you’re in pain. With a shaking hand, I clicked stop and fell onto my bed.

It was true. All true.

The nightmare wouldn’t end.

I couldn’t wake up because this was my reality.

I touched myself when I slept, and my life had gone to crap because of it. There was no coming back. I wouldn’t be begging forgiveness from Logan.

It was over. For real.

Sometime later when my phone buzzed against the desk, I opened my eyes enough to stare at it until it faded to a black screen. Even after, I couldn’t drag my gaze away. Not until it buzzed again bringing the message on-screen to remind me I hadn’t seen it earlier. Time to turn that feature off. I didn’t need the second buzz. Heck, I didn’t want the first. I dragged myself out of bed and picked it up.

A text from Logan.

Don’t skip class because of me.

I couldn’t summon enough
anything
to care. I tapped on the text which took me to our message history. There were a string of texts from him to me. A lump jammed in my throat, but I was a glutton for punishment so I read them all.

8.30: Where are you?

9.45: Wanna grab us bacon and egg rolls while you’re out?

10.00: Liv, this isn’t funny. Where the hell are you?

10.15: Jordan saw you leave. We’ve got to talk.

11.15: I’m coming over. We need to talk.

11.45: Liv, are you in? I want to speak to you about last night.

Noon: I know you’re home. Answer the damn door, Olivia.

12.24 Please, Olivia. I know I went off the rails last night, but I’m not like that. I don’t go around punching people, no matter how shitty they are. I’m sorry. We’ve got issues. Talk to me.

13.02 OLIVIA!!!!!!!!

15.08 Don’t do this, Butterfingers. Let’s chat.

And just now,

10.07: Don’t skip class because of me.

Right from the first one he’d sent yesterday morning, up until the one a few moments ago. All his messages said the same thing; he wanted to talk. Well, the proof of what we’d be talking about was on my computer, so I didn’t need to hear it from him.

I crawled back in bed and didn’t get out.

****

On Tuesday, I hauled myself out of bed, and I did the same again every day that week, even though I didn’t feel like going to class. Just because I’d let my problems get the best of me the day before wasn’t any excuse to let everything else slide. I still had an end goal to meet; graduate with honours. I didn’t see Logan up top, but then I kept my attention focused on what I was doing—walking, talking, breathing—just to keep going. Turned out, attending class was a waste of time because by the end of the day I had no clue what the lessons had even been about, but at least I wouldn’t earn any more fail incompletes for non-attendance.

On Saturday I stood in the freezing morning on the netball courts, jigging to keep myself warm. The tiny uniform was no help against the frigid air. No matter how many times Logan’s voice replayed in my head, telling me not to bother with something I hate, I’d still showed up to play for my dorm. After all, I’d been the one to scrounge a team together and register it a few weeks ago. It would be both rude and reflect badly on myself to back out.

Molly eyed me off from her position in the goal circle and her gaze felt more like my mother’s; weighing, appraising, finding me lacking. I glanced away quickly, and concentrated on the girl I was defending; a short, thin blonde thing whose nails looked far longer than was permitted for the game. The look she gave back to me was a challenge and that’s what I hated about this sport. It was all snatches and scratches and filthy looks. The umpire blew the whistle and I passed the ball to my Goal Attack.

The game moved fast. Overall, netball was a much quicker moving game than hockey, and twice as vicious. I managed to get out of this game with no injuries. Molly however, copped a scraped knee and red gorges down her left arm, reminiscent of cat scratches. As we picked up our stuff and started the walk back to Oxley, her weighted gaze rested on me again. I wasn’t about to buy into it though, so I kept my eyes set on the path ahead and didn’t mention it. I even pulled one of the balls out and bounced it against the pavement as we walked to lighten the mood, and hopefully keep her from talking.

It didn’t work.

The brown-trimmed front of our college came into view and Molly seemingly couldn’t hold it in any longer. She practically blurted, “What happened?”

I inhaled, slow and steady to keep the ever-present burning in my throat and eyes in check. “Nothing.”

She gave me a sideways look, but I didn’t engage. After a few seconds the silence felt like a physical weight, and I couldn’t stand it any longer.
Time to deflect.
“How’d you like your first game of netball?”

“Hated it,” she said, “but for you, I’ll play. Who knows, maybe I’ll get to put some catty girl on her butt.”

“Molly!”

She laughed. “Good to see you smiling, girl.”

I heaved a long sigh as we walked over the arched bridge and into the ivy-covered Front Courtyard. The smell of brunch—fried eggs, bacon, and those other foods that were good for the soul—wafted on the faint breeze. I didn’t really feel like eating though.

“Olivia.” A finger jabbed me in the side. Molly nodded back toward Front Courtyard. “You going to say hi to Savvy or what?”

“What?”

“I didn’t mean it literally. She’s called out to us three times. Stop snubbing her.”

I glanced back, and sure enough Savannah was sunning herself on the lush grass with a spread of text books and other girls around her. I waved, yelled hello, and moved on, because sitting around with a fake smile wouldn’t happen today. My heart wasn’t in it.

It wasn’t until I was halfway up the stairs that I realised Molly was two steps behind me. “What are you doing?” I asked.

She shot me a wide grin. “Coming up for a chat.”

“I don’t want to chat.”

“I don’t care.”

I unlocked my room, and tempted as I was to slam the door in Molly’s face, I didn’t. She kicked her shoes off, opened up my food cupboard and tossed a block of chocolate on the bed which she proceeded to open and snap into bite-sized pieces while I stood there, gobsmacked. The girl had no boundaries.

“Sit.” She popped a square into her mouth. “Eat. This stuff’s good for the heart and mmm …” She broke off into a low moan “… your heart needs some mending.”

I nearly said that it didn’t, but I bit back the retort because I felt like gosh-darn crying again, and I was so tired of that feeling that I didn’t trust myself to open my mouth. Molly raised a brow and patted my bed.

I perched on the edge and picked out a square of chocolate that had a huge nut protruding from the side, then placed it in my mouth.