Page 101 of Rebellious

I chuckle at the symbolism of it all. The writing on my arm, the unlocked window that Aspen used for three years to sneak in and out of my bedroom, and here I am, turning the lock and closing the book on a lifetime of memories.

My window has no reason to open again.

Nausea swirls in my stomach as the front door slams, leaving me and my shitty attitude all to ourselves. I should have gone with my brother and Fenn. I should have made it a point to look like the insanity hasn’t consumed me.

But I couldn’t.

Throwing open the door, I head into the kitchen and grab another beer from the fridge. This entire summer started with a drunken night at the pub where Aspen convinced me to dive off a bridge with nothing but a harness and her scream.

Hitting the edge of the bottle against the counter, I slam off the lid and take a long pull. I just want to forget it all. Every ride on the jet ski. Every laugh. Every taunting smile. Every single challenge she threw at me.

I want it all gone.

Every. Last. Moment.

I slide to the floor, my back against the refrigerator. The floor is good, it holds no memories. And the beer is already washing away the memories of her with every chug.

I wake up thirsty.

I look around the kitchen; my vision is blurry and my skin is hot.

“Fuck.” I moan, pulling myself up into a standing position. I’ve only had this happen twice when I was younger and still figuring out the right balance of insulin, carbs, and exercise.

Stumbling to the bathroom, I unzip the black bag and drop to the floor. While opening an alcohol pad in order to clean my finger, everything blurs together, but I hold the lancet steady enough to prick my finger, add a drop of blood to the test trip, and put it into the glucometer.

Focusing, I close one eye and read off the number, 282. “Fuck.”

I bang my head against the cabinets a couple of times, punishing myself for being reckless. I didn’t eat. I didn’t check my blood sugar, and I drank far too many beers loaded in carbs.

Drawing up the insulin, I take a deep breath.

It’s just a needle—a painless little needle that you could never stab yourself with.

“Boys!”

I exhale the breath I was holding at the sound of Theo’s voice.

“Where are you little shits?”

I could ignore him. I doubt he’d check our rooms, but then again, he might have heard from Aspen. And right now, even hyperglycemic, that matters the most to me.

I pull myself from the floor and stand. “Back here!” I holler, heading into the bedroom and taking a seat on the edge of the bed just as Theo pops his head through the door.

“Hey.” He tips his chin. “Are you the only one here?”

I rake a hand through my hair. “Yeah. Fenn and Drew are out grabbing dinner.”

Theo nods, pushing into my room like he’s looking for something. “You alone?”

I bark out a laugh. “Yeah, I’m alone.” Surely he doesn’t think Aspen is here. “Aspen isn’t here.” I confirm, just in case.

“Oh, I know.”

Then… “Why are you looking around suspiciously?”

He shrugs, striding into my bathroom and sliding open the shower doors. “Seems like you’re a little out of sorts.”

Ah, hell. He thinks I have a girl in here. “I—”

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