Twenty-Eight
Phoenix
My mood has been shit since last week’s Super Bowl party—all thanks to my inability to fess up to Kason about things with Holden—and the clouds of toxic doom around me have made no signs of lifting anytime soon.
Though, there are moments when they break apart, and the sun shines through.
Usually, in class, when Holden sends me a text message about something stupid that inevitably makes me smile while I’m sitting beside him.
I think my mood has even started infecting him, though. Which is exactly why I’ve decided to hole up in my room with my favorite episodes of Friends, hoping it might help a bit. And if “pivot” doesn’t do the trick, I’m not really sure what will.
Or at least, that’s the thought when my phone buzzes on my chest, pulling my attention away from my laptop screen.
H: Wydrn?
A little grin lifts my lips, having no idea what the acronym stands for.
P: In English?
H: Are you eighty? I asked what you’re doing right now.
I must be ancient, because I probably never would’ve pieced that one together.
P: Nothing, why?
H: Really? You’re doing absolutely nothing at all? Just staring at a blank wall?
P: Ceiling, actually.
H: Pics or it didn’t happen.
My smirk shifts into a full-blown grin, and I let out a little laugh. Never in my life did I think tossing banter and jabs back and forth with Holden would lift my spirits, yet here we are. The world works in funny ways sometimes.
P: You’re the definition of a man-child.
I find myself waiting and watching as the little bubble in the corner of the screen moves, indicating he’s typing out his response, only to realize just how addicted I’ve become to talking to him.
A fact that becomes all the more obvious when my stomach does a little flip after his message finally pops through, followed by a second.
H: So you’ve said before. But you can either send a photo of you clearly watching Friends on your laptop (not nothing, by the way) or come open your window and let me in.
H: Unless it’s porn. Hard to tell from here. But if that’s the case, then you do your thing, and I’ll stay out here and watch.
My brows furrow as I reread the texts several times, still not entirely understanding what he’s saying.
Open my—
A gentle tap at my window scares me shitless, causing me to drop my phone to the floor and jump clear off my bed. My eyes flash to the window, and sure as shit, there’s Holden fucking Sykes standing on the fire escape.
Rushing over, I quickly unlock it and slide the pane of glass up and out of the way.
“What the hell are you doing?” I whisper-shout at him, a mixture of fear and adrenaline rushing through my veins like a rip current. “Are you trying to get caught?”
Holden smirks as he slides through the opening and steps into my room. “No, but I am rescuing you from a lame and boring night.” His eyes shift over to my laptop and he frowns. “But I take it you weren’t watching porn, after all.”
Jesus Christ.
“Why would I need porn when I’m sleeping with you?”
A thoughtful look crosses his face before he nods. “Fair point.”
He kicks off his shoes and pads over to the door before clicking the lock in place. Then he drops to my bed, making himself comfortable, and it only adds to my confusion about why he’s here.
“I thought you said you were rescuing me?”
His brow arches playfully as he settles in amongst the pillows on my bed. “Yeah, I am. From having a lonely night here all by yourself when you could have a date-night-in instead.”
“So you’re not trying to drag me out into society right now?”
“I’m capable of being low-key too, you know. We don’t need to go all Fight Club at a concert every date night to keep things spicy.”
“There will be no spice, and you have to be quiet,” I tell him with a pointed stare. “Kason’s down the hall.”
“Fine, then get over here,” he whispers, motioning to the bed. “We’re gonna Netflix and chill. But without the chill, since you insist on living up to your reputation as a human chastity belt.”
I roll my lips inward to keep from laughing too loud as I cross over to the bed.
This guy.
Something about him lightens the air around me. Makes me feel like I can breathe again, even through all the shit plaguing my thoughts.
As quickly and quietly as I can, I climb in beside him and situate the laptop between us. Which Holden seemingly has a problem with since he grabs it, puts it over to his other side, and drags me toward him until my head is resting on his pec.
“So you’re a cuddler, huh?” I murmur before wrapping my arm around his waist.
“Just with you,” he whispers, his eyes still on the screen while he hits play. “But don’t let it go to your head.”
Except it does. Every time he says something sweet or even a bit corny, it sends my head straight into the clouds, at the same time vines of barbed wire wrap around my heart.
We settle in after that, silently watching a few episodes of the craziest friend group to ever grace television.
His calm breathing and steady heartbeat beneath my ear ease some of the tension coiled inside me like a snake, and the deep rumble of his chuckles creates more butterflies in the pit of my stomach.
And it’s being wrapped up together like this that brings the sense of peace I’ve been craving all week.
Holden presses a kiss to the top of my head halfway through our fourth episode before shifting his position, sliding down flat on the mattress and rolling to his side to face me.
“You’re bored already?”
“A little.” A small smile works its way on his lips. “But in my defense, the show is older than we are.”
My mouth drops open. “It’s a classic.”
“Doesn’t mean it’s good,” he murmurs, and from the way his lips quiver, he’s just trying to poke fun.
A feeble judgment call on his part, especially since it happens to be my favorite show of all time.
But regardless, I slide down lower too and mirror his position, only for him to make my stomach somersault when he drags me straight into his chest.
My eyes sink closed, and I let the steady thud of his heart ease the rapid beating of mine.
His fingers dance up and down my spine in relaxed, soothing patterns that could very well put me to sleep if he didn’t bury his nose in my hair and whisper, “Where have you been lately?”
“Gym, practice, class—”
“Not what I meant, Nix,” he murmurs. His hand reaches up and he rakes his fingers gently through my hair a few times before lightly tapping the index one against my temple. “I mean in here.”
My throat constricts, the question taking me more off guard than anything. He never fails to surprise me with how much he notices. All the little ticks or quirks or comments that no one else ever picks up on, he does.
But it also makes it impossible to hide things from him, because he just sees right through it.
So I don’t bother trying anymore.
“Lost,” I whisper, pressing my forehead against his chest. “Really fucking lost.”
His hand traces up my back until it wraps around the nape of my neck, and I’m met with his imploring gaze capable of staring straight into my soul. There’s tenderness in his gaze—something I’ve seen a lot more of lately.
And I recognize it, since it’s the same way I’ve caught myself looking at him too.
“I can help you find your way out, but you have to let me in first.”
If only it were that easy.
I press my forehead harder against his chest, as if the act will somehow allow me to burrow inside him for the peace and safety I’m desperately seeking.
“It’s Kason,” I whisper before attempting to swallow down the knot lodged in my throat. “Lying to him has created this guilt that’s gnawing away at me…like a rabid animal or something. And I’m fighting and trying to keep it at bay, but it’s exhausting.”
I don’t think I fully grasped the truth in that statement until I finally spoke it aloud.
I’m exhausted from keeping up with all the secrets without tacking all these lies on as well. Ones only growing in size as time goes on. It’s draining—suffocating—looking into the eyes of someone you care about and knowing you’re hurting them. Even if they aren’t aware of it themselves.
Holden’s voice is soft and gentle when he murmurs, “Then you need to tell him, Nix. For your own peace of mind.”
The idea alone makes me want to vomit. For so many reasons, but I choose to speak on the one at the forefront of my thoughts.
“Hurting him just to ease my own guilty conscience isn’t high on my list of priorities.”
“Well, it should be.”
My eyes widen in shock, and I pull back to look at him. “You can’t be serious.”
“Except I am.” He exhales in a long, deep sigh before shaking his head. “I know I’m probably going to sound like an asshole for saying this, but fighting for your own happiness should always be your priority.”
My teeth bite into my cheek, hating how wrong and selfish it feels to even consider that an option.
He skims my face, and it’s moments like this when I wonder if he’s got laser vision capable of burning right through my skull until he reaches my brain. It’s the only explanation for why he seems to pluck thoughts from my head at the drop of a hat.
“You’re allowed to be a little selfish sometimes, baby. It doesn’t make you a bad person.”
I’m not sure if it’s his words or just the one in particular that makes my throat suddenly clog with emotion. All I know is I might as well be choking on it when I go to speak.
“Then why does it feel that way?”
“Because he’s your best friend, and no one likes hurting someone they care about.
Yet from what I can tell, you’ve lived through this whole friendship putting Kason first, and that’s not normal.
Sure, doing what you can for him to be happy isn’t necessarily a flaw, but it is when it’s completely at odds with what you want for yourself. ”
Holden’s hand moves up to cup the side of my face, and I subconsciously lean into his touch, letting the heat of his skin against mine soothe the anxiety roaring inside me as he continues to speak.