Chapter 22 #2
It’s been missing since the start of the year. I thought my old roommate took this. I look at the notebook, and then I look at the drawer, and I start going through it differently, the charger long forgotten.
The pencil case I didn’t pay any attention to, I unzip it now, and there they are, my pencils inside. The ones I thought were taken. The calculator, that’s the one I thought I left in last semester’s stats class.
And then, in the back corner of the drawer, shoved into a ball, I find the missing underwear.
I look down at it, the red and black fabric balled up in my hand, and I try to find a reasonable explanation first.
Our laundry got mixed up.
He thought they were cool, so he borrowed them.
There’s some reason, if I dig deep enough, that makes sense and doesn’t mean what it looks like it means.
“Hey, did you find it?” Ryan asks, coming through the door. He sees me on the floor and opens his mouth to say something else, but he stops when he sees what I have.
“What is this?” I say, keeping my voice calm.
He steps into the room and closes the door behind him, turning the lock.
I stand up, never turning my back to him as I watch him cross the room. I don’t let myself think about the locked door or the fact that he’s bigger than me or any of the other things my body is threatening to freak out about.
This isn’t Jason.
Never again.
I stand up to my full height, and I keep my eyes on him, holding my stolen underwear, and I wait for whatever the explanation could possibly be.
“You weren’t supposed to find those,” he says, when he gets close enough that I can smell him. He reaches past me, and my body tenses, but he doesn’t touch me. He opens the door to his bedside table and presents his laptop charger.
Oh.
“Okay.” I nod. “But I did.”
He drops the charger onto his bed and runs his hand through his short brown hair. “It’s not what you think.”
“What is it then?”
Exhaling, he looks down at the floor and then back up at me, and there’s something on his face that I’ve never seen before. “I love you,” he says. “I know how that sounds, but it’s true.”
What? I stare at him in confusion, not even shock.
“Since freshman year, Alex. I saw you for the first time, and I knew you were the one. I just knew it. I saw you, you know? We had that teacher. The handsome one, remember? And I saw you looking at him, because I was looking at you, and I knew right then. You were like me—”
“Ryan.” I shake my head. I do remember that teacher. He was handsome. But—
“Just let me finish.” His voice has an edge of desperation that doesn’t feel right. “I know it looks bad, taking your stuff. But I needed to feel close to you somehow.”
I look down at the underwear, and I remember his words from the gym that day. I can think of a few things.
“I wanted to tell you,” he continues, taking a step toward me, and I don’t move back even though everything in me wants to. “I would treat you so well, baby. You have no idea.”
Baby.
No. No. No. That sounds so wrong coming from his mouth.
“I know this is a lot,” he says, into the silent room. “I know you weren’t expecting this, but maybe now, with Pierce out of the way—”
“You went through my laundry,” I finally say, because that’s what this is, isn’t it? “You took my shit for months, listening to me talk about how it was upsetting me, and you never said a word, you never stopped.”
“I know,” he says, trying to come off apologetic, but his jaw clenches when I challenge him. “I know it was wrong. But I didn’t know how else to get your attention.”
“ I thought we were friends…”
“That’s not what I wanted. You knew that.” His voice turns when he says that. Accusing me even though I had no idea he wanted more. I didn’t even know he liked guys.
“And then you went and started sleeping with Pierce.” He laughs, but nothing about the way he says those words is funny. “Mike fucking Pierce, of all people. God—” He shakes his head. “Do you know how that felt? Having to watch that douche with my-”
“Ryan—”
“I forgive you for it,” he says, like he’s doing me a favor. “We can move past it. You’re here now, that’s all that matters.”
He reaches out and puts his hand on my arm.
“When I heard about Jason,” he says, his thumb caressing my skin. “I couldn’t wait any longer.” His eyes move over my face with a look that makes my skin crawl. “You’ve been through so much, baby. You need someone who can take care of you.”
The sound of Jason’s name in his mouth does something to me.
He took my shit, and he called himself my friend, and every second we’ve spent together for the last two years has been a lie. Just him waiting for the right time to make his move.
I am so fucking tired of people deciding I belong to them.
He starts to lean in, taking my silence for acceptance. I use the distraction to pull out of his grip, putting space between us, until the backs of my legs hit my bed.
“Alex,” he starts, squinting in confusion.
“No.”
I look at him, this person I thought I knew, that I thought was my friend, and I hold my ground even though my hands are shaking. “I’m not interested in you like that. I never have been.”
“You don’t have to decide right now—”
“I just decided.”
He shakes his head. “I’m not taking no for an answer.”
“Yes, you are.” He moves toward me, reaching, and whatever survival instinct takes over my body, I’m thankful for it, because one second, he’s reaching for me, and the next, my fist is connecting with his face.
I’ve never punched another person in my life, and my last good hand hurts, but it was worth it, because he snaps back with a pained sound, holding his face while I turn the lock and pull the door open.
I walk as quickly as I can down the hall, down the stairs, aware that he could be behind me, but not wanting to draw attention to myself. Outside, it’s freezing, but I keep moving, my heart pounding, the winter air burning my lungs.
I make it half a block before I realize I’m still holding the Spider-Man boxers.
I keep walking.