Page 115 of Unloved

“Do you think I’m a bad person, Ro?”

My voice catches and I cough, desperate to cover exactly how much I’m breaking now. I spin away from the door and walk tight circles around the cluttered floor.

“No,” she breathes. “Hey, hey. No, Matt. You’re a good person. The best. You’re—you’re incredible—”

“Can I come over?” I ask, my voice shaking, because just hearing it isn’t enough. And I don’t care how pathetically needy it is.

She’s so silent for so long, and my stomach sinks, the swimming sickness returning to my gut.

“Freddy,” she says, and the change of name, the tone of her voice—Fuck, a knife to the stomach would’ve hurt less. “I can’t— I—”

“God— Sorry.” I bite my lip. “Of course you’re busy. I’m sorry—please, ignore me.”

“No, Matt, I can—”

“Everyone’s really busy right now and I’m being selfish.” I nod, agreeing with myself as the words come out. My shirt is sweat soaked and sticking to me, making my thoughts scatter until I can pull it off over my head.

I pull the phone back to my ear frantically, breathing heavy.

There’s another sound, and then a deeper voice, muffled and far away.

Ro says, “I’ll be right there,” but it’s not to me. It’s to him.

I’m too frantic already not to blurt out, “Is that Tyler?”

She pauses. And then, “Freddy—”

“Fuck. I’m sorry. I… I shouldn’t have called. I’ll let you go.”

I don’twantto let her go. But she’s with Tyler, the fucking super genius who doesn’t sleep around and is older, smarter, less wild.

I think you’d be really easy to love.

I feel so goddamn stupid.

My entire body sinks down to the floor, head tipping back to rest against the door with a bitter laugh, my knee bouncing.

“Matt, stop.”

“Don’t,” I rasp, eyes burning as I drop the phone into my lap. If she says something, I don’t hear it over the thrumming of my heartbeat in my head and the trembling starting to take over.

“I begged her to get rid of you.”

“Is it true you’ve slept with your teachers for grades?”

“You can barely read; you can barely add numbers together—what the fuckareyou good for?”

“It was fun, Freddy, but I’m not… You’re not a serious option.”

“I’m sorry, Ro,” I say, my breath still heaving as I pick the phone back up. I’m sure she knows I’m crying, can fucking tell by the sound of my voice alone. But she stays quiet as I continue. “I don’t know why I called you. I’m fine. You’re busy—everyone’s busy right now with finals and no one has time for this kind of shit. Sorry, I should go.”

She tries to say something, but I hang up before I can hear another word.

My texts to Bennett, Rhys, and Holden are all unanswered in the group chat. Even Toren Kane, who keeps removing himself from the group while Holden keeps adding him back, is silent.

I touch Archer’s contact, the photo in the center of him with me on my signing day with Dallas.

But opening our texts is just a scroll through a year’s worth of unanswered check-ins. My fingers hover over the keys.

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