Guys! I'm so sorry I haven't updated literally since August, and this chapter isn't the most exciting of the three, but it's something new! Thank you for sticking with me while waiting for this, I really appreciate it. :) I hope you enjoy!
As the sun pierced its way into my blurred eyes, and my head's relentless throbbing became extremely evident, my mind attempted to fathom what I had been through in the past few hours. For the life of me, I couldn't remember anything except the slight, constant chill on my skin. My blankets' comforting warmth quickly abandoned me as I pulled my body up against my upright pillow. My room seemed colder than it usually did in the morning, and the air nipped at my skin. When my hands jumped to my stomach to readjust the blankets, I suddenly realized why the cold attacked my delicate flesh: I was completely naked. No clothes, no underclothes; just pale, bare skin reflecting the sun's glow. With hasty grasps, I raced to cover my vulnerable body with my sheets. It was then that I remembered: I wasn't alone last night, and I still wasn't alone. My eyes slowly wrapped around the room, taking in each little detail. Shirts and jeans and bras and pants thrown hastily onto the floor. Sheets tossed into a heap at the foot of the bed. A long, toned body lying next to me, peacefully faking sleep.
Quick bursts of memories of the past few hours flashed through my mind with each forced flick of my eyelids. Soft lips brushing against each other. Gleaming skin pulsing in rhythm. Curious hands climbing each dip and curve. Fingers lacing through tangled hair.
I clutched the clump of blankets held tightly in my hand. I should've felt guilt, remorse, anger, something, but all I could think about was the feeling of warmth and heat and passion that radiated from our ethereal intimacy. The world seemed almost at peace for a fraction of a second, until I glanced toward my clock: 7:10. Through a muddle of quiet damns, fucks, and shits, I raced through my morning routine, quickly applying trace amounts of makeup—just enough to add some color to my pale face—, tying my disheveled hair back in a low ponytail, and throwing on the clothes nearest to me. I was such a hurried mess that I didn't even notice Gabe saunter up behind me, close enough to nip at the back of my neck. "Morning," he whispered. His breath sliced through the air with a familiar chill, but his voice was warm and tender, matching his comforting touch as he gently grasped my arm.
"I have to go," I announced with quiet certainty. I tried to pull away from his grip, but his strong hold on me caused me to bounce awkwardly back into place. He caught me off guard; I was still in the middle of putting my jeans on—it was definitely not the most attractive time for him to come on to me. "Honestly?" I laughed as I continually pulled away from him. "How am I going to explain to my teachers that I was late because of a damn ghost?"
Saying the comment aloud sounded much worse than I wanted it to be. It obviously took Gabe aback, but he didn't retaliate. His only response was the loosening of his grip on my arm. I half-heartedly muttered a "Thanks," grabbed my backpack off the floor, and ran out of my room, only momentarily leaving behind my fucked up life for the hellhole of school. My breaths quickened as I raced out of the house and away from Walton Way toward the school. I silently wished Henry wouldn't be there. How could I face him? He was so willing to wait, so eager to help, and all I had done was push him aside for a sickening fantasy. My feet rapidly brought me closer and closer to my worst nightmare, because bad news:
Henry was there.
He saw me as soon as I walked through the doors. It wouldn't matter how many fucks I exclaimed, whether they be under my breath or shouted at the top of my lungs, Henry wouldn't leave me alone. He'd outlive God trying to figure out why I was trying to avoid him. As I opened my locker, my mind ran like a sergeant giving orders.
Just blend in.
Put your books away.
Just grab your Calc book and leave.
You're not here.
You're invisible.
But before I could race off to the torture that is first period Calculus, a hand crept its way onto my locker's door and slowly pushed it closed. I glanced over to see Henry leaning against the row of lockers, half-smile crawling across his face, and possibly already stoned. "Hey," he happily announced.
I didn't continue our usual banter.
"I-I have to go," I stammered.
"What's your problem?" Henry asked, but I barely looked at him. By the end of his question, I was already facing the opposite direction and six steps away, forcing myself to leave before I said too much. No matter what I did, I would hurt him. No matter what I did, I would hurt someone.
My thoughts haunted me all day, but as soon as the bell rang at 2:45, I raced to the school's practice room. I needed to play the piano away from home, away from anyone; just me, the keys, and a Mozart sonata or two. While my fingers brushed across the smooth white keys in sync with my tapping foot on the pedal, all else drifted away for just a moment. The faint, distant sounds of students rushing to their buses or gossiping about who kissed who all faded away to nothing more than mere echoes, then eventual silence. The piano's harmonious ringing melded into my ears as I felt my problems dissolve, if only for a moment.
But as soon as I stopped, the pain again took hold, rushing back to my body like a swarm of wasps. I groaned aloud. "What the fuck am I going to do about Gabe?" I wondered aloud. "What would Henry say?"
A familiar, romantic voice darted across the room:
"Looks like you'll find out now."