Page 15

I ’m so fucked.

Lying in bed, I hit play on one of the songs I recorded while outside of her practice room. From one of the times I followed her, waiting for her to get lost in her music before I emerged from the shadows.

She’s incredible .

Once her song comes to an end, I open Instagram and search her name—something I’ve done a thousand times over the years. The most recent photo she uploaded is one of her and Sunny.

She looks so happy, so cheerful, posing with her girl. A pang of jealousy shoots through me that I’ve never made her smile like that. I mean, I’ve seen her happy like that before, but never by my own intention.

I shouldn’t be surprised, given the fact that my goal has always been to take that very thing away from her. But now, everything is getting muddled and confusing, and I don’t know how to navigate the growing urge to make her smile rather than frown.

Scrolling through her page, I find one posted from this past summer. Location set in Italy. It’s of her and some guy posing for the camera in front of a pool the size of my childhood home.

She’s wearing a ruffled pink bikini set that I’m hoping she still has because it looks fucking incredible on her.

The blond guy’s hand is wrapped around her hip as they smile for the photo.

My blood pressure spikes. Who the hell is this guy?

Mentally, I replace his image with my own and suck in a breath at the thought. We would look so good together, like yin and yang in so many ways.

My phone suddenly rings, tearing me from the delusional imagination that I need to run far away from.

As I read the name of the caller, my stomach drops to the floor.

No. I’m done with him. I’ve been done with him. He already got everything he wanted. What else could he possibly ask of me?

Answering the call from my uncle, I remain silent.

“Malik? Are you there?”

The sound of his voice forces me upright in bed, my fist clenching at my side.

“What do you want?” I spit.

“Just checking in. Seeing how things are going. Seeing if you’re holding up your end of the deal.” His last sentence is full of doubt and accusation.

As if I have any other choice. “Do you still have Micah?”

The only thing he could ever hold over my head to buy my silence...my brother. I’ve never seen the urn, never been able to hug or hold him. Instead, my uncle used it as a bargaining chip. As long as I never speak about the deal he made with Alora’s dad, then I know his ashes are safe. If I talk, my uncle said he would flush them or discard of them one way or another. I know he’s telling the truth.

In a weird way, I trust his word more than most people because he’s never lied to me. He never tried to pretend to be the loving and kind guardian. He showed me exactly who he was and only hid it from anyone else.

I won’t take a chance when it comes to Micah.

He scoffs, and I grind my teeth.

“Yes, of course I have him.”

“Then I haven’t said a word.” I swing my feet over the side of the bed and drop my head into my free hand, propped onto my knee with my elbow, shrinking into myself.

“Good boy, Malik. I knew I could count on you.” He pauses. “Have you gotten a deal to go pro yet?”

This was an inevitable question in this conversation. I haven’t heard from him in nearly three years since I moved out of the house and started living in my car.

Which can only mean one thing … he needs money.

“Not yet. Besides, you’re not getting a dime from me when I do.”

His laugh straightens my spine and flares my nostrils. “We’ll see about that.”

“The only reason you are even allowed to breathe right now is because I don’t want to lose Micah for good. He’s not only your bargaining chip; he’s your lifeline.” I stand up as my words and anger bubble out of me. “The second you spread his ashes, I would be on your doorstep, and I would gladly become the last face you ever saw. Whether you know it or not, he’s the only reason you’re alive. Killing that connection only kills you too.”

He exhales loudly. “You’ve always had a smart mouth on you, haven’t you?” His Southern accent comes out strong in his next words. “I should have hit you harder. Maybe then you would have learned to show some respect.”

Ending the call, I chuck my phone across the room, much harder than I intended, leaving a dent in the drywall after it falls to the floor.

My breathing is ragged, my chest spasming as I start pacing in my room, trying to calm myself down. But nothing’s working.

Unbridled rage punches through my lungs as deep-rooted and buried pain fights to the surface. I should have killed him when I was younger. I should have done it the night my uncle and Alora’s dad struck that deal. You’d think there was a finite amount of regret one person could feel, but you’d be wrong because I feel more every single day.

As if Griffin somehow senses my distress, he knocks on my open door, and I turn, finding him leaning against the doorframe.

“Everything okay?”

Biting my tongue, I tilt my head side to side. “It’ll be fine.”

He holds my stare for a moment as he searches my face, but I shut the fortress down, becoming a blank and unreadable canvas. But I can’t slow down my erratic heartbeat and heaving breaths.

He steps into my room and shuts the door behind him. “What’s going on?”

I chuckle, the sound shaky and fake. “What? I’m fine.”

Slowly nodding, he walks over to me and sits down beside me on the bed as I sit up next to him. “All right.”

Hooking his arm around my shoulders, he squeezes me against him, and something about it makes my resilience shudder. We sit in silence with his arm around me, and I feel every muscle in my body start to relax as the next few minutes tick by. Eventually, my heart calms and my quivering breathing stills.

Griffin senses my calm and continues with what he came in here for. “Are you riding with us this morning? Wasn’t sure if you were crashing in the Kensingtons’ room tonight after Ollie’s party.”

Fuck, I forgot that was tonight. Ollie is a good friend of Dean and Asher’s. Since last year, the rest of our little group have grown pretty fond of him.

“Yeah, is riding with you cool with you? I can be ready in just a couple of minutes.” Moving across the room, I grab a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt from the dresser and a sweatshirt from my closet.

Griffin stands up and walks back through my door.

“Yeah, no problem. Meet you outside. There are muffins in the kitchen if you want one,” he shouts back into my room as he heads to the staircase.

Hunger is escaping me right now, but I know I need to eat something.

After changing, I slip on a pair of my tennis shoes and grab my backpack before heading to meet them, stealing a muffin and bottle of water on the way out.

The ride to campus seems faster than normal, but that may be because I’m merely existing in my mind today, zoning out without any effort.

We have World History class this morning, the one I have with Alora. My heart jumps at the idea of seeing her again, and I mentally smack myself for the thought.

She’s not in her seat when we walk in, and a giddiness I didn’t know I was feeling plummets. She’s never late. As long as I’ve known her, she’s been Miss Punctuality.

Quietly, I find my seat to the right of Griffin as Blair takes a seat in front of us, typing into her phone. I wonder if she’s talked to Alora at all.

Is she feeling okay?

Last night, I fell hard and fast down a rabbit hole, uncovering and devouring as much information about POTS as humanly possible. I had made the mistake of looking it up at midnight and didn’t go to bed until after three a.m. because I couldn’t stop reading and watching videos about it.

I don’t ask Blair. The thought of forming any words seems exhausting as I twirl my pen between my fingers.

Everything feels heavier today. Gravity, the weight of succeeding, the pressure of not letting Alicia and Darius down. I’m being crushed into smithereens.

I don’t even notice when Asher and Dean walk into the room and find their seats to my right or when Lumi sits down next to Blair. I’m too distracted, zoning out and forcing my mind to stay empty of thoughts.

“Blair,” Asher murmurs, “Alora sick or something?”

Part of me hates the affinity he has for her, and the other part of me is even more confused as to why I hate it at all.

Blair turns in her seat, her brown eyes finding mine before shifting over to Asher. “Yeah, she isn’t feeling well. She’s staying home today.”

Asher groans, unaware of the invisible illness she faces every day. “Ugh, I wanted to see my girl so bad.”

This earns a turn of my head, and I cock it to look at him as he fights back a laugh.

“ Sunny is my princess.” He chuckles with a knowing grin. “My girl .” He looks at me fully. “Malik, what were you thinking? Did you think I meant Alora, you silly goose?” He pauses with a shit-eating grin. “You all right? You seem on edge today.”

Biting the inside of my cheek, I nod my head and force a fake smile. “Screw you.”

He chuckles as the professor walks in and steals our attention. As invigorating as this class is, my mind is nowhere near the lecture as he talks for the next hour straight.

When he dismisses us, I’m torn between going to the arena and practicing for an extra three hours today before tonight’s actual practice. Or going to the Kensingtons’ room and plopping on one of their beds for the biggest nap of my life.

Deciding on the latter, I head to their dorm hall, forcing myself to walk past Alora’s room without knocking, even though everything inside of me tells me to stop.

When I get to Asher and Dean’s room, I swipe the spare key fob they gave me, but the reader blinks red, denying me access.

What the hell?

I try it again. Once, twice, three times before giving up with a groan.

Did these fuckers change my access?

Glancing down the hall toward Alora’s room in the corner, I contemplate wandering down and doing yet another thing I’ll regret.

But thankfully, the brothers round the corner, stopping my thoughts dead in their tracks.

“Did you guys lock me out?” I call out to them, grumpy, irritable, annoyed, and now tired as hell.

They both squint at me in confusion nearly at the same time.

Dean shakes his head. “Nope. Sure didn’t. Are you positive you aren’t just stupid?”

Rolling my eyes, I take a step back and give them space to unlock it. I twirl my keys around my finger. A fob spins around the ring, and I realize my mistake. I tried to use the wrong one.

No wonder it didn’t work. It’s not programmed for this room.

I follow them inside and take over Dean’s queen bed, sprawling out and getting comfortable.

“Make yourself at home.” Dean laughs, taking a seat on the small futon across the room.

“I’m taking a nap.” I announce, quickly setting an alarm on my phone before collapsing back into the pillows.

“Sweet dreams, babe,” Asher says sickeningly sweet, and I can’t help the chortle that slips past my lips.

* * *

After I work my body until it‘s as exhausted as my mind, I’m happy to be back at Dean and Asher’s dorm, waiting for a few other people to show up for Ollie’s birthday.

Ollie is a friend of ours, but we haven’t seen him much lately since he got a new girlfriend. But we made sure to steal him away for a night to celebrate him turning twenty.

Some more guys from the Legends should be coming, along with a couple of his friends outside of our team.

“Are you going to mope around all night, or is Malik going to join in on the fun?” Asher asks, trying to get a rise out of me as he starts filling up a cup with Sprite and Crown Royal Regal Apple.

I’m not sure whether I should refrain from drinking tonight so I don’t do anything I’ll regret or get plastered so much that I forget about everything around me for just a little while.

But that’s a dumb thought because I already know how this night is going to go.

Three hours, seven drinks, and who knows how many shots later, it’s clear which choice won the battle.

The fogginess in my mind has only been clouding more and more, relaxing the tension in my body.

Lying back on Dean’s bed, I close my eyes, the earth beneath me spinning, rocking me back and forth. Such an odd sensation, so freeing .

The one downfall of drinking so much is the never-ending bathroom breaks. When I slowly sit up, the room seems to shift with my steps, tilting on its axis as I wander toward the door.

“Malik, where are you going?” someone calls out behind me.

To take a leak , is what I mean to say, but it comes out in one connected breath, “T-take-a-leak.”

Walking out of the door, I forcing myself to avoid heading to her, no matter how strong the tug may be.

Walking into the men’s restroom, I take a piss and empty my bladder, feeling much better afterward as I head back to the hallway after washing my hands.

Falling through the door, I catch myself on a poor passerby.

With the next breath I take, I realize I know exactly who it is, the one person I was trying to avoid tonight.

But we can never seem to stay apart from one another as hard as we try.

We are the same in the end, two tragedies in the universe, forever tethered by our souls.

“Malik?” she murmurs, my name on her lips sounding like pure ecstasy.

“Yes, baby?” I trail my fingers down her hairline, caressing her cheek as my other hand slides down her back, stopping above her waist.

Her tongue darts out and swipes her bottom lip. I pull her tighter against me.

Placing her hands on my chest, she pushes away, but I don’t want to let her go. She stays in my grasp, looking away from me with upturned eyes.

She groans, her eyes pinching shut. “You’re so goddamn confusing.”

Running my hand down over her blonde hair, I memorize how soft it is, how far it flows down her back. How pretty it looks, tangled up with the tattoos on my hand as I lift it off her.

“I can’t get you out of my head.” I swallow hard, wanting that to be an internal thought, one that stays there. “You’ve taken up permanent residence, and I can’t get rid of you.”

Her gaze falls to my lips. “Do you think you’re the only one who feels that way? The only one fighting their own feelings? I question my sanity every day when the first person I wake up thinking of is you.”

My breath stills in my throat, and my mouth dries at her confession. She can’t feel that way … she just can’t.

“This isn’t good for me. You’re not good for me. And I’m certainly not any good for you. There is no world where we would ever belong to one another.” I crush her hope with my harsh words.

Her bottom lip trembles, and a dagger slices into my chest, carving this image into my flesh so I’m forced to relive the anguish I cause her.

“Will you tell me one thing?” She bites down on the inside of her cheek.

I nod, hoping I can give her what she wants so she can walk away from me for good.

She leans forward and lifts her hand, sliding it up my jaw. My body fucking explodes at her touch. She is the sun, and I am Icarus, burning up, ready to fall for her.

“Why do you hate me, Malik?” She nervously bites down on her bottom lip. “What did I do to you?”

Her question oddly sobers me up, enough for me to realize that I’ve yet again gone too far. I can’t tell her. I know her and her father might not be close anymore. But I can’t risk her mentioning it and that somehow getting back to my uncle.

Her eyes start to water, and I feel the thorns around my heart constrict tighter But I didn’t even notice the hold loosening.

She’s dangerous, bringing my guard down without my knowledge.

She’s my one weakness in this world.

Leaning forward and standing up taller, she closes some distance between us, and my emotional fortress locks back down.

Her gaze is intense, too passionate, too overwhelming. She’s looking at me like she wants me to kiss her, to claim her right here and now with abandon.

“Don’t look at me like—” My voice cracks, surprising me as I feel a burn sting the backs of my eyes. Forcing the choking warm sensation as deep as it will go, I look anywhere but at her.

“Like what?” Her voice is almost inaudible.

“Like you’re starting to not hate me.” Lifting my other hand to her face, I drift closer to her. My forehead slowly rolls against hers as a pain I’ve never felt shreds my chest apart. My eyes flutter shut. “I can’t handle that. Cut me. Hurt me. Do anything you want to me. But don’t fall for me, Alora.”

A teardrop wets my thumb, and I clench my jaw.

“You wanted to ruin me, Malik?”

I stay silent, the ability to form a single word escaping me.

“You’ve succeeded.” She pulls away from me and wipes the tears away from her eyes. “I’m tired, Malik. Tired of whatever this is.” She gestures between us with her hand.

I’m frozen in place as she turns and walks down the hallway, away from me and toward her room.

My voice is a ghost of a whisper, contradicting what I should want. “I’m not tired. I need you.”