Page 89 of Challenge
She must be commenting on the fact that I walked back from Camden’s flat in the rain. Or maybe she’s talking about the fact that I’m losing my bloody mind and can feel myself imploding. Stanley takes one look at my crazy eyes and scurries out the door with his tail tucked between his legs.
“Let’s talk about whathasn’thappened to me in the last week, shall we?” I begin pacing in front of her, the squishy sound of my wet trainers sending chills up my spine. “I haven’t managed to get Stanley to stop looking at me as if I’m a dessert buffet and he’s on a diet. I haven’t managed to get Prichard to stop making creepy comments to me. I haven’t managed to lose my virginity and just move the hell on. I haven’t managed to avoid hooking up with a patient. And now I haven’t managed to keep a best friend! As far as relationships go, I’d say I’m doing a proper job of cocking everything up.”
Her face twists into an unattractive sneer and she throws her feet down on the floor to sit up. “What the bloody hell are you going on about?”
“Well, I got in a fight with you and you don’t even care.”
“What makes you think I don’t care?” she asks, her voice high and shocked.
“You didn’t fight with me. Just like that, you walked out on me yesterday and I haven’t seen you since. I thought caring about people usually means they…care! I thought that, even when you mess up, they fight with you. I don’t know how to process these emotions that are crushing my insides right now.”
“Indie—”
“You know how kids always remember their first pet the most?” I ask her, feeling as if I still can’t quite catch my breath.
“I guess so?”
“They do. It’s science. Their first pet reduces anxiety. Teaches them how to be social. Shows them unconditional love. Then the pet dies because animals have shorter lifespans than humans. But it’s okay because the pet served its purpose. It taught the kid how to connect by choice instead of familial obligation. I never had that. I’ve never had a pet. You were my pet!”
“I was your pet?” Her face is completely disbelieving.
“This is a euphemism. Keep up.”
“I’m trying!” she exclaims. “But your brand of crazy is of a special variety tonight.”
“Look,” I exhale and sit down next to her on the bed. Reaching out, I grab her hands and pierce her eyes with mine. “I’ve been used to solitude and living my life with my own thoughts. It’s been easy for me because I never grew up in the same place or around the same people, so I never really formed relationships. It was me and school. Detaching kept things simple.
“You’re the first thing I haven’t wanted to detach from, and I’m dying on the inside because I hate what I said to you. You’re not a slut. I would never think that about you. I was just mad about something else and I used you as a punching bag I guess. I don’t know why. I’ll revisit that at a later date with a therapist.”
“Your therapist list is getting longer and longer,” she murmurs.
“I know,” I half sob.
“So is that an apology?” she asks.
“Yeah, I guess so,” I shrug.
“Fine.”
“Fine?”
“Yeah sure, fine. That declaration was pretty dramatic, but you’re going to have to do a lot worse to get rid of me. Using me as a punching bag is called love, darling.”
I freeze for a tiny moment before throwing my arms around her neck and hugging her to me. A real, genuine hug. I know I’m getting her wet but I don’t care. I thought I was okay being alone. I thought space is what I craved, but it’s not. Things have changed for me. My brain hadn’t had time to catch up to that fact. In my arms is my unconditional best friend. My family. I care about her.
“We’ve never fought before,” I croak.
She pats my wet back gingerly. “No, we haven’t. I would have remembered if this is how you behave after a fight. I wish I would have recorded it.”
I smile and then release her to hunch over and hold my head in my hands. “God, what a mess I’ve made these last few weeks.”
“What’s going on? Because I know that rant wasn’t all about you apologising for a snarky comment.”
I swallow hard. “Camden Harris said he was falling for me.”
“He what?” she screams. “When? At Old George?”
“Before,” I reply.
