Page 51 of Revenge Cake

“Man, that’s fucked up,” Logan says, sounding genuinely dismayed.

A faint smile rises to my lips. I’m reminded again why he’s perfect for me.

“You know…I mean it’s fucked up for a kid to think something like that,” he says, perhaps feeling that his original comment was silly. He can’t know how much silly comments like that make scary things feel small and manageable.

“I was having a panic attack. I know that now. I can’t even really remember what it felt like back then, but I’m certain it was the same feeling that I have now. This out-of-body, detached feeling, like I’m completely alone, and no one can help me.”

He gives me a sympathetic frown. “That must suck.”

I smile. “It does.”

I look away, not wanting to see his reaction to what I say next. “You make it better.”

In my periphery, I see his head jerk back in surprise. “You mean like…I make your panic attacks better?”

The hint of pleasure in his voice gives me courage to say more. “You’re perfect for me. I think I’ve known it all along.” I wrap my arms around myself. “It scares me.”

I look back at the ocean, not wanting to see his reaction. This conversation makes my skin prickle with uncomfortable heat. I feel the pressure of his hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay. That’s how relationships are supposed to be. We’re supposed to rely on each other, and make each other better.”

I shake my head sharply. “No. I’ve never subscribed to that theory. It’s antiquated and rooted in patriarchy. We should all be just fine on our own.”

I hear a smile in his voice when he says, “Noted. In the future, I’ll try to be a little shittier to you, so you won’t rely on me as much.”

He doesn’t get it. Even after everything, he still doesn’t get it. I jerk away from his hold as I turn around to face him. Suddenly, I want to test him. I feel almost possessed with the desire to scare him off. “I need you right now! That’s what I’m trying to say. This is a dark time in my life, and it isn’t the first. It won’t be the last. If I come to rely on you, you’re going to see some dark shit. Do you know one time Brenna called 911 when I was having a panic attack? It was two in the morning and I had my arms wrapped around myself, rocking back and forth muttering to myself like a fucking lunatic and she got scared. I was too in my head to realize what she was doing and stop her. Talk about an awkward conversation with the paramedic. He was hot too. It was fucking humiliating. Do you want to be around for shit like that?”

He only stares at me, a mixture of emotions in his eyes. I won’t try to decipher them yet. I’m not done. “I don’t think you’ve really heard anything I’ve said to you. I was the creepy little kid who was obsessed with death. Do you remember that kid? I’ll bet you didn’t invite her to your twelfth birthday party at Disneyland.”

“I don’t care what you were like when you were twelve.”

“Maybe you should. Maybe you’ll realize…” I lower my voice to a whisper, “that we’re not right for each other.”

He’s long since looked away from me, his jaw set, but at this he turns to face me. His eyes are blazing in what looks like contempt.

There. I’ve done it. It didn’t take much.

“Let’s just get the fuck out of here,” he says. “You’re really starting to piss me off.”

My heart sinks. Why did I push him so far? He was already starting to feel trapped. Did I have to press for disgust as well?

As we walk back to his car, I feel empty and hollow, almost sick to my stomach. I can’t even muster the angry triumph of getting him to prove what I’ve known along.

When we get back to my house, he doesn’t walk to my room. I turn to him, fearful that he’s going to leave. Out of desperation, I try to sound nonchalant when I say, “Let’s just chill and watch The Office or something—”

“No. I’m going home.”

I clench my teeth in an effort to look expressionless as I lift my eyes to meet his.

Then I see it.

Everything I’ve feared over the last eleven months since I met this perfect boy is there in his eyes. Disgust. Contempt. And maybe a little fear.

Like he’s afraid of me.

My chest seizes. I feel like I can hardly breathe. I’m going to lose him. It’s just a matter of time. “Logan, please…” I say, loathing how pathetic I sound.

“No,” he says right away. “I’m pissed off and I want to go home. We’ll talk in the morning. Ask Brenna to help you if you’re having a panic attack. Maybe she can call another hot paramedic for you. I don’t care. I just need some time to myself.”

I nod forlornly. If he senses my anguish, he doesn’t show it. Without saying goodbye, he turns around and walks out the door, almost, but not quite, slamming it shut.

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