Page 7 of Crash & Burn

I place a firm hand on Mateo’s shoulder, and I can feel the frustration radiating off him. I turn to see Mia’s hurt all over her face. The two of them are stuck in a staring match, and I’m not even sure they heard me.

After a few seconds, Mateo turns and heads to the door without another word.

I have the urge to say something to Mia because I feel the need to take that hurt look off her face, but I tamp the ridiculous thought down.

I am her brother’s friend, not hers.

I barely know the girl.

I steal one more glance at her face, wishing the tension in the air would ease, knowing I can’t do anything about it. She doesn’t meet my eyes as she continues to stare at her brother’s back as he grabs the doorknob.

I can tell there are words on the tip of her tongue that are not coming out.

I follow Mateo, who turns around before opening the door to leave, looking right past me and directly at Mia. “Nico is gone, Mia. He isn’t coming back.”

And with that, he opens the door and storms out of the place. I turn around to see those pretty brown eyes cloud before I follow Mateo and close the door shut behind me, wishing I had just stayed in the car.

Chapter 3

Mia

The door quietly closes as Mateo and Eddie leave, and I feel like my entire body is frozen in place. I can’t feel the pain in my hand, or the embarrassment in my cheeks from Eddie watching Mateo and I go at each other. All I feel is a familiar numbness in my chest as my mind takes me back to the memories I try so hard to keep in a special place in my brain that I only visit in my dreams or in therapy.

Nico.

The name that haunts my nightmares but brightens my dreams.

The name that brings so much happiness and so much sadness all at once.

My eyes flutter close, and before I can stop them, the memories start flooding in. It is almost like I can feel Nico’s arms wrapping around me—the feeling I miss every waking moment—as I replay all the moments I share with him in my head like a beautifully tragic montage of the best and worst moments of my life.

No.

My eyes snap open, and the warm embrace I felt is gone as quickly as it came, almost as if it was never actually there.

I need to go to bed.

No more thinking of tonight, or Mateo, orNico.

But, not thinking of something is much easier said than done when you’re someone with anxiety.

I constantly struggle with taking back power over my thoughts, and I feel like I’m always stuck in a spiral that prevents my brain from shutting off, especially before bed. Before therapy, I could barely sleep. I would stay up, staring at the ceiling, feeling like the thoughts inside my head were shouting at me as they moved a million miles per hour.

Therapy and the right medication have helped me take back some of my power, but there is no fix-all solution. Some nights, I feel normal. I feel like my thoughts are my own and in my control. Other nights, like tonight, it feels impossible to shut my brain off.

I walk over to my bathroom and strip off my clothes before getting in the shower to wash the mess of tonight off my skin. The only sound around me is the water falling in streams.

If this were high school, or even the first few years of college, music would have been blasting while I showered. It didn’t matter what time of day or who could hear, it used to be my favorite part of taking a shower. There was nothing like finding a playlist to match whatever mood I was in and singing like my life depended on it. It didn't sound good because Mateo was the one who got all the singing talent, but itfeltgood.

These days, music reminds me of the song I can’t get out of my head.

The song that reminds me of the worst day of my life.

The song that my memory can’t quite place, but it gets stuck in my head anyway.

So, I avoid music—as much as I can.

My lavender body wash feels like a breath of fresh air as I lather the soapy bubbles all over my body. I can feel the notes of the unnamed song form in my brain, tempting me to hum the melody, but I refuse.

---