Page 4 of Don't Hate Me
My plan for the Christmas break was to hopefully convince him to allow me to go somewhere warm. A long week in Florida where I could have some relief from the constant cold. If Marc had a car, he could drive down and see me. Away from Harborview. Away from my father.
Maybe George could come, too, if Arthur let him have some time off.
That had been my plan.
Only now Marc thought I was lying? When I’d never lied to him about anything, ever . Only held back what I knew he didn’t want to hear. There was no way I would be able to go back to sleep, but I concentrated on my breathing, laying on my back, eyes closed.
Easy in, and out. In, and out.
Fifteen minutes later, my phones started to vibrate. First one, then the other. He would have texted. Would be angry I wasn’t texting back. He would tell himself that it didn’t matter.
Two minutes later, he called.
I didn’t want to talk to him. If I told him the truth about Arthur, and what I suspected Evan Sanderson wanted from me, he would only think I was making up more ridiculous lies.
I needed to not worry about that, and just continue with the plans I’d already set into motion.
2
Two weeks later
Marc
She wasn’t talkingto me. I got it. I’d basically called her a liar.
Now I was sitting in a bar, getting shit-faced drunk, and, hopefully, about to get into a fight. I wanted to beat the shit out of someone. Or, just as effective would be having someone beat the shit out of me. So I could feel on the outside what I felt like on the inside.
You need me like air.
She’d told me that once and I told her she was delusional. Now, I wasn’t so sure, because this loss of connection felt like, felt like…
Being torn away from my mother.
And just like back then, I had no control over this. I couldn’t afford a plane ticket to Switzerland. Every penny I’d made at the restaurant, taking shifts evenings, weekends, and in between classes, had gone toward the car.
Because the car, like learning how to drive sooner than most people, like getting into Princeton, had been another step. Now I had freedom and autonomy of movement. I could go where I wanted, when I wanted.
Except I couldn’t drive across the ocean and shake her until she promised she wouldn’t shut me out again.
“This seat taken?”
I glanced up from the glass of whiskey that held all my thoughts, and turned my head to my right.
The seat next to me was obviously not taken and there were ten other open seats surrounding the bar, but she wanted to sit in that one.
She was older than me, late twenties, earlier thirties. Brunette, attractive and clearly looking for something. Or someone. It was the way she smiled, the open invitation in her eyes.
I sighed. “I’m looking for a fight, lady. Not to get fucked.”
“Your loss,” she said, and moved farther down the bar. I watched her walk away and thought how stupid that was. I hadn’t gotten laid since…since then. I told Ash there would be other women. She even said it herself, we weren’t in a relationship.
Taking her virginity was something I’d needed to do. For her. For me. But the sex was just that one night.
Maybe hooking up with a random woman was exactly what I needed to break free of this trap I was in. The trap I’d been in since I was twelve.
The Ashleigh Trap.
Only, I had no enthusiasm for it. After one more shot of whiskey, the idea of getting into a fight seemed pretty stupid, too. I didn’t need an arrest for assault or public brawling added to my record. Instead, I left the bar, got in my car, drove to campus and texted Ash again, for the hundredth time, telling her to text back.
