Page 74 of Under Pressure

Chapter Twenty-One

Tyler

I turnoff the steaming water, wincing as I step out of the shower and twist the wrong way. He got me right in the ribs at one point.

I have to admit, Erickson’s one hell of a boxer. If he could just get that wildness under control, he’d be great. I’m surprised he’s never tried MMA fighting. That seems like it’d be right up his alley. Now that Marty’s kicked him out, maybe he’ll go for it.

I open the medicine cabinet and steal two of Ethan’s ibuprofen, swallowing them down quick. My body must still have been in shock earlier, because I swear I wasn’t this beat up when I got home.

I dress and hobble over to my room, my entire left side protesting at the movement. I sit down heavily on my bed, slumping down on my back to stretch out, but have to dig out something hard from under my shoulder I encounter. My notebook for my Psychology of Motivation class.

I was working on it this morning before Mia texted about the gym, catching up on the last few days. I flip back through it again, noticing a pattern I refused to admit to myself before.

Mia. Mia. Mia.Practically every day features her. And even if I didn’t put down my true motivation for whatever the activity was, it likely had something to do with pleasing her, spending time with her.

I slam it shut, disgusted with myself for how I’ve been acting lately. Mia ended up sleeping over the other night—the first girl I’ve ever let do that. Thankfully, she had to leave early for a tutoring job, otherwise I’d have been tempted to lounge in bed with her all day, despite my resolution the night before to stop sleeping with her.

It was just sexual exploration, I told myself the following morning. Letting her restrain me, hold power over me—it didn’t mean anything.

But looking at my Motivation journal now, I know that’s not true. I can’t lie to myself any longer.

No wonder Lainie thought we were dating. Or why my mom asked about her when she called me the other day. Why Ethan always assumes I’m going out to meet her, never mind that he’s right. And my Motivation professor must assume it too based on this journal alone.

But all of that isn’t the same as the facts. The facts are that I set out for there to be nothing between us. And that’s how it’s going to be. I don’t do relationships. One person inevitably lets the other down, without fail. That’s how it works. And then you end up with a mess, two lives so intertwined that they screw up everyone around them too. Look at me and my family as Exhibit A.

But I don’t want to mess anyone up. Be the cause of someone’s misery because of my selfish actions. Because I know myself and I am selfish. I wasn’t lying when I told her that. And she doesn’t deserve—

A knock at my door startles me out of my reverie. I open it to find Sean, my roommate I rarely speak to. “Some girl’s at the front door for you,” he says, turning around and heading toward the opposite side of the house to his room.

I walk slowly down the hallway, half dreading who I’ll find.

Mia’s standing in the empty living room, looking out the sliding glass door to our backyard, and gives me a bright smile as soon as she spots me. “How are you feeling?” she asks, approaching me. She shifts a bag to her other hand to bring careful fingers up to my face where the area surrounding my eye is bruised.

I stay silent, letting her explore, a wave of pure want for her threatening to undo everything I just decided on. I take a step back, needing her hands off me. I won’t have any willpower if she continues to touch me.

“I brought you some soup,” she says, bringing a can out of her bag. “Not that you’re sick or anything but I figured you wouldn’t feel well. And here’s some ibuprofen and Icy Hot—”

“I didn’t ask for any of this,” I tell her, more and more suffocated with each new item she draws forth from the grocery bag in her hand.

“I know, but—”

“You’re not my girlfriend.”

She looks taken aback, eyes wide. “I know that,” she says in a small voice.

I close my eyes, unable to look at her wounded expression. Marty and Erickson kept saying that word this morning in his office.Girlfriend. Even after repeating that wasn’t what she is. But the idea is the same. I was responsible for her in that gym. And I don’t want that responsibility.

I don’t want to feel anything. Don’t want this attachment. The expectations that come along with it. And when I inevitably fail at those expectations, let her down… no, it’s better to nip this in the bud now.

“You made me lose my control today at the gym.”

“I’m so sorry about that.” She steps closer. To hug me, kiss me, comfort me, I don’t know what, but I back away, the confusion on her face killing a part of me.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

Her head tilts, the light in her eyes slowly dying. “Can’t do what?”

“This… intimacy.”

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