Page 40 of Pocketful of Shame

"I need some air," I muttered, taking this as my chance to get the hell away from the girl that made me bleed like no one else. Stepping around Romi, I kicked on my sneakers and grabbed a shirt out of my bag. Shrugging it on, I moved for the door, desperate to get some breathing space. "Welcome back, asshole."

"Sketch, wait," Presley called after me. "Don’t you wanna talk about –"

"Ya'll can figure it out." I barreled past him and stalked into the night. "Apparently, I didn’t know shit about my brother."

Chapter Thirteen

Romi

Stunned, I watched Sketch storm out of the motel room, taking what little was left of my sanity with him. "Wait!" I called out, ignoring the searing pain in my leg as I attempted to shuffle after him. "Sketch, don’t go –"

"Let him go," Presley said kindly, blocking my path. "He needs to cool off and he can't do that around you."

Shaking my head in utter confusion, I stumbled back to the bed and collapsed in a heap, feeling more emotions than I knew how to handle. Everything was spinning out of control, my life was falling apart before my eyes, and being near him again was making it so much worse. It was too much. His words, his version of the truth, had stunned me into submission.

Lost.

I felt utterly lost.

Face down on the wiry mattress, I buried my head in a pillow and swallowed a scream.

"Talk to me," Presley coaxed, wrapping an arm around my body. "Come on, baby girl. I'm here for you."

I couldn’t talk to him. I couldn’t talk to anyone. All I could do was reel in my memories as they attacked the fractures of my splintered heart…

"Oh my god!" Swallowing down the sob of relief trying to claw its way out of my throat, I locked eyes on the boy who had been evading me for two weeks. Sketch stood outside my classroom door, expression dark and guarded. His face was covered in bruises, his blue eyes locked on mine. Raising a hand, he crooked a finger and gestured for me to follow him before disappearing from sight.

Practically falling out of my chair, I scooped up my books and dashed for the front of class. "Romi?" Mr. Jackson said, brows furrowed in confusion. "If you need a hall pass –"

"I'm sorry, but I have to go," was the only explanation I gave him before barreling out of the classroom in search of my missing boyfriend. Heart bucking wildly in my chest, I rushed down the hall, my eyes frantically searching for him.

"In here," Sketch said, leaning against the door of an empty classroom. Again, he walked inside without waiting for me, letting the door swing shut behind him.

Relief flooded my body as I hurried into the classroom. "You jackass!" Slightly out of breath, I let my bag fall from my shoulder and set my books on a random desk, feet moving straight for him. "Where the hell have you been?" Not stopping until I had my arms flung around his waist, I sagged against his tall frame, needing the feel of his body against mine to ground me. "I thought something terrible had happened to you," I growled, tightening my hold on his waist. "You didn’t text or call." Clenching my eyes shut, I felt a tremor roll through me as I felt my world fall back in place. Sketch was okay. I could breathe again. "What the heck happened to your face?"

He didn’t answer my questions and he didn’t hug me back. "We need to talk," was all he said instead, taking a step back from me and breaking the physical connection I desperately needed.

"You bet your ass we need to talk." Planting my hands on my hips, I glared up at him. "Do you have any idea how worried I've been? You don’t answer my calls. You don’t text me back. You drop off the face of the freaking planet for two weeks and show back up to school without an explanation!" I shook my head and expelled a frustrated breath, wincing when I took in the sight of his bruised face. "What happened to you?"

"Doesn’t matter." His tone was clipped and void of emotion, his expression masked with impassiveness. He was looking at me like I was a stranger and it terrified me. What the hell was happening? "We need to talk."

"Then talk, Sketch," I strangled out, feeling a pang of anxiety settle inside of me. "Explain this, please, because I'm beyond confused right now."

"I've been doing some thinking," he began, reaching up to scratch his swollen jaw. "And I think we need to go our separate ways."

I heard the words come out of his mouth, saw the seriousness in his eyes, but I still laughed. I laughed and laughed and laughed because it was so ridiculous. "No," I finally replied, sobering my features. "Next."

"No?" He frowned. "What do you mean no?"

"I mean no," I shot back, feeling a surge of heat in my chest. "We're not going our separate anything. It's not happening. We're together. You and me. We love each other and that's that."

His eyes narrowed. "Romi, I want to break up."

"Stop playing around, Sketch," I growled, not liking this game one bit. "Whatever you're up to, it's not funny."

"Listen," he sighed, breaking eye contact. "You're still my best friend and I still care about you, that will never change, but –" Words breaking off, he ran a hand through his hair and expelled a shaky breath. "I just…"

"You just what, Holden?" I demanded, feeling my eyes sting with tears. "You want to end things? You want to break up with me? You don’t love me anymore? You don’t find me attractive? Hmm? You just fucking what?"

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