22. RYA
22
RYA
It’s been two weeks. My heart has cracked wide open, the loss I feel due to Logan’s absence in my life is a deep wound that grows with every day that passes with zero communication between us. We’ve seen each other, sure, but I can’t bring myself to talk to him. He’s kept big things from me, and the more time that goes by, the worse it feels. I’m a broken shell of the girl I was before everything crashed down around me, my insides a hollow cavern of despair.
I’ve been distracted during my classes and unable to sleep at night. In the darkness, I feel so fucking alone, but I’ve also had a lot of time to think about everything.
The worst part about the shit show that is my life? I don’t know if it’s fixable. Going through the day-to-day motions while I pretend nothing is wrong isn’t getting me anywhere. My forehead pinches as I bend to rub the calf muscle that’s been giving me trouble. Logan must know what this is doing to me. He knows me. Better than anyone else. But I guess I didn’t know him as well as I thought. And that hurts.
Sitting on the bench, I drop my head into my hands, my tired body hunching over as I stare unseeing at my banged-up dancer’s feet. I’ve been trying to get the choreo for my dance audition together so I can start practicing in earnest, but it’s not been going as planned. I can’t concentrate on anything, and I know why.
The way Logan and I left things has me contemplating every single bit of the last year, trying to sort out whether I was mistaken about his true feelings. There’s a tiny seed of hope within me that Logan might want something beyond friendship. If he feels for me a thousandth of what I do for him… it’d be enough. But what if— What if he simply hates his stepbrother and will do whatever it takes to keep him away from me? If that’s the case, I’m so fucking disappointed in him.
Meanwhile, Jaxon is so damn charming, always available when I need him, and there’s no denying he’s attracted to me. Honestly, the only thing not going in his favor is that he isn’t Logan. And considering I’ve had a crush on my best friend forever, that’s not fair to Jaxon, it’s really not. We haven’t known each other long enough to have that same emotional connection, even if the chemistry and physical heat between us kinda makes up for a lot of that. There’s a little part of me that wonders what the hell I’m doing. My thoughts about the two of them are muddled and twisted together and so damn hard to figure out.
Around and around and around, my head spins like I’m performing a never-ending series of fouettés. And for some reason, I’ve forgotten my training and how important it is to spot. I’m dizzy from the complicated cyclone of uncertainty in my head. It threatens to send me to my knees.
A hand on my shoulder yanks me from my thoughts, and it shouldn’t surprise me when I lift my gaze to find Hazel standing there, studying me. I sense from her tense stance that her worry over my current state of mind is beginning to rise. “Are you going to get dressed anytime soon so we can go? We should get you some food and get your butt back to the dorm.”
“Um. Yeah.” My teeth rake over my bottom lip. “Sorry. I’m just really tired.”
Hazel shakes her head, her perfect bun unmoving on top of her head. “Yeah. You were tossing and turning all night. Again. And it’s been this way for weeks.” She doesn’t have to say his name, but I know what she’s insinuating. I’ve been like this since my friendship with Logan shattered into a million heartbreaking pieces.
I lower my head, blinking furiously. “I’m sorry I kept you up.”
Hazel exhales heavily, then plops down on the bench beside me. “You didn’t. I’m good.” She pauses, nudging me with her shoulder. “Look at me.”
Wetting my lips, I shift my head. Lightly tracing the delicate skin under my eye with her fingertip, she clenches her teeth, looking pityingly at me. “You’re pale as hell and these bags have bags. And they’re verging on purple.”
I grimace as she ceases her inspection. “I know. It’s bad.”
She sighs, giving my arm a quick pat. “Be real with me. This isn’t simply a case where you need to take some melatonin to get a good night’s sleep. It’s all about what’s going on in your suddenly very complex love life.” At my eye roll, she shrugs, folding her arms over her chest. “Go ahead and tell me I haven’t sussed out the problem. I’ll wait.”
But I can’t deny I’ve found my way into some fucked-up and confusing version of a love triangle, so I nod, letting my abject misery show in the droop of my shoulders and the way my chest wants to cave in on itself. Millie would shout at me for my poor posture if she were to walk in here.
As usual, though, Hazel puts on a bright smile. “How about this? Throw your clothes on over your dance gear, shove your feet into some shoes, and let’s get the fuck outta here. We’ll chill in our room, watch a movie on my laptop or something. No partying for you tonight. But there will be no getting all stuck in your head and depressed, either. The melancholy quotient over here is way too fucking high, even for my taste.”
“Sounds good. I wasn’t really planning on going out, anyway.” I give her a half-hearted smile that I’m not really feeling, but dammit, she’s right. I need to do something about this shitty mood I’m in.
She holds up a finger, her eyes lighting up, and I swear, there’s a hamster in her head running super fast. It almost has me laughing. Almost. She sucks in a breath before blurting out, “One stipulation, though. Wait, no. Two. With the movie, we need a comedy or an action movie or a horror flick. There is no in-between. I’ll let you choose. But stay away from the dramas. You’ve got that in spades already.” She huffs out a laugh. “And that leads to the second thing. No dudes. Girls’ night, only. Cool?”
This time, I really do grin at her. “Yes, sounds good.” One thing I can usually count on is for Hazel’s antics to make me smile.
Fifteen minutes later, as darkness falls, we enter Deveney Hall. We’d been mostly quiet on the walk home, but now Hazel finally speaks up again. “You know, I still don’t know what the fuck happened, but seeing as how I was the one to clean the bloody mess off both the door and the floor, I think I deserve some little nugget of intel, don’t you? Come on. You. Logan.” She pauses for a second. “And what’s the deal with Jaxon?”
We step into the elevator and push the button, then wait for the door to slide closed with its usual screech. The stale air in this decrepit piece of machinery makes me want to gag, and the car shudders for a moment, like it always does. My stomach lurches as I grasp the rail on the side wall. “Fuck.”
Hazel’s bent her knees and is holding her arms out to the side for balance, eyes comically wide as the car begins its ascent. “Jesus Christ, they need to fix this thing.”
“No shit. Scares the hell out of me every time.”
“Fine. You know, we’d both be distracted from the elevator that’s threatening to eat us alive, if you gave me all the juicy deets.” She purses her lips and arches a brow. “What? I didn’t bring any of it up in the locker room because there were other girls walking around. You seriously aren’t going to share now that we’re alone? I’ve given you space to deal with the mess in your head. But now”—she grits her teeth—“seems like it might help more to get it out.”
Well, crap. She’s actually been really good about not getting on my case. Very patient. I bite my lip, sucking in some air to fortify myself—whether for what to say or the dodging of the conversation, I haven’t quite decided yet. But then she levels me with her best but-I’m-your-roomie pout, and I relent. “Logan broke my trust, and neither of us is handling the fallout well. I’ve gone over it in my head a million times, the way I always do when I haven’t handled something like I think I should have.”
“So, you’ve been rehashing shit for weeks, making yourself crazy.” Hazel twists her lips and shoots me a disapproving scowl.
I shrug. “Pretty much.”
“You know that no matter how many better lines or different ways to say things you come up with in your head that none of it means a damn thing unless you actually use some of it to speak to him.”
“Yeah. I know. But?—”
“You aren’t ready to talk to him about it… or you’re too scared to?” Her brow raises as she assesses every nuance of my expression, and I desperately try to hide th at the answer to her question is both . Not ready. And too scared of what he’ll say. “And Jaxon? Where’s he in all of this, besides constantly having to put his eyeballs back in their sockets anytime he looks your way?”
“I’m a little unsure.” I shrug. “There’s nothing wrong with Jaxon… except that he and Logan are in some sort of grudge match, and I keep getting drawn into the middle of it.” I wet my lips. “I think that’s what was up with Logan.” My stomach pitches. I can’t reveal my innermost thoughts on the matter. It wouldn’t be fair to Logan when I haven’t spoken to him.
The elevator chooses then to groan to a stop, but the door doesn’t immediately open. All we can do is stare at each other as we wait for the beastly box to decide to release us.
Closing my eyes with a dejected sigh, I whisper, “I miss him,” before inhaling unsteadily. A page of our story has been ripped out, mangled, and torn. There’s no chance we’ll ever be the same with each other as we once were.
I miss the way he calms me and keeps me on track when my brain scatters. I could really use that right about now. I miss his easy smile and the way he looks out for me. I miss the way we can do absolutely anything and, so long as we’re together, it’s fun. I miss my person. And I’m afraid to talk to him because I don’t want us to be over. But I’m also terrified he’s going to let me down. That I’ve somehow had him pegged wrong all this time.
“I know you do. I’m sorry I brought it up. But shit will resolve one way or another, then you’ll be right back to your old selves.” Hazel practically jumps out of her skin when the door creaks, then slides open. She mutters under her breath something about stupid fucking elevators before gesturing that we should exit.
My eyes slide to the side as we pass Logan and Levi’s room. The door is shut, and there’s no sign that anyone is inside. I desperately want to knock, to put an end to my suffering, but Hazel grabs at my elbow and tugs me the rest of the way down the hall. And maybe she’s right. I need a good night’s sleep before approaching Logan.
At the door, she pauses with her hand midway to the knob. “Um. That’s not how we left the room, is it?”
I’ve been sluggish most of the day, but my attention snaps to her, then follows her gaze. She’s right. The door is open a crack, as if one of us is home. But we’ve both been out all day since we left midmorning. “Didn’t we lock this on the way out earlier?”
“I definitely did.” She stares at it, swallowing. Then, in one quick move, her arm shoots out, her hand making hard contact with it. “Caught ya, motherfucker!” she shouts as it swings inward. I frown, giving her the side-eye. She sounds all cute and girlie like it’s a big joke, but when her eyes meet mine, I see a hint of fear there. Her ninja-like reaction is simply a display of bravado.
For several seconds, both of us stand paralyzed in the doorway, peering at the absolute destruction inside. My heart thuds rhythmically in my chest, a warning. I try to swallow, but I can’t manage it as my eyes sweep across the room. Drawers have been yanked open, clothes strewn all over the floor. With my stomach bottoming out, I take in the state of our beds—mattresses stripped free of sheets and comforters, the pillows torn open.
“Shit.” Hazel sounds as if she’s been punched in the gut, and I get it. I feel the same.
With my lips trembling, I follow the lit strand of twinkle lights that used to be strung along the ceiling by hooks. It’s now meandering like a glow-in-the dark snake on the floor. “I unplugged those before we left. Why would whoever did this have plugged them in?”
She lets out a shuddering breath, eyeing the mess. “Someone’s a sick fuck.” Her voice is the tiniest bit singsongy, which I’m certain can be attributed to the shock of seeing our home base, our supposed safe haven, in ruins like this.
My gaze slowly finishes making its way around, noting the shredded dance posters before finally landing on our desks. The contents have been dumped out and tossed around like fucking confetti. Our laptops are face down, their hinges snapped. Oh, god. Wetting my lips, I shake my head. “What the actual fuck.”
Wide-eyed, Hazel’s eyes connect with mine. “What do we do?”
My lips twist as I wince. “Call for campus security, maybe? We need to report it.” The more I look, the worse it seems, and the harder my head pounds. My hands grow clammy and my vision tunnels, darkness obscuring the edges. I snap my eyes shut. “And probably an RA. Jaxon or Steph. Whoever is available.”
Pulling her phone from her pocket, she whispers, “I’m on it,” as she looks through the contacts that we’d been required to plug into our phones at the beginning of the school year.
Without thinking, I murmur, “I need Logan.” The second his name leaves my lips, it hits me like a load of bricks all over again—I don’t know where we stand. My eyes prick with tears because no matter what, I will always want Logan. He’s my rock.