Page 68 of Shut Up and Score
It hasn’t.
I bailed on Luke for lunch. Haven’t answered any group texts. Barely blinked when Luke sent a meme about Coach looking like an overcooked potato. All I’ve done is sit here, phone in my hand, screen locked, thumb tapping against the edge as if I’m trying to crack it open by force.
I finally unlock it.
The messages from GoldenSpiral23 are still open.
Nothing new. No unread bubble.
Just the thread. Still glowing with everything he said last night. Every word that made me feel safe. Wanted. Seen.
I swallow hard.
Because I don’t feel safe now. I feel broken. And I hate that I’m thinking about Colton.
I hate that I’m thinking about him and this at the same time.
I hate that they feel like opposite ends of the same ache.
My fingers hover. Then move.
Me: You ever wish someone else could carry the hurt for a minute? Just… hold it long enough for you to breathe?
I hit send.
Then I set the phone down beside me, press the heels of my hands to my eyes, and exhale through clenched teeth.
Colton just brought everything from the past right here to the present, and I don't know what the fuck I'm supposed to do with it.
His mouth was on mine, his body against mine, and for a second, it felt real.
And then he looked at me with the mistake of it shining in his eyes.
Again.
Like I’m the thing he can’t want in the daylight. Like nothing’s changed.
And now I’m here, asking a stranger to hold the part of me he keeps dropping.
How fucked up is that?
I lie back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, my chest tight in that awful, familiar way. The part that comes after being wanted…right before being discarded.
Maybe it’s stupid.
Maybe it’s reckless.
But GoldenSpiral23 doesn’t make me feel like I’m a mistake. Not even when I hand him the worst parts of me.
And right now?
That’s the only thing keeping me from breaking.
I type out a quick message to him. Something light.
Me: Did you know that roller coasters were invented to distract us from sin?
There’s a knock on my door.
