Chapter 23 – Reese
I GATHERED ALL THE PIECES, JUST TO GIVE TO YOU—AND LOOK WHAT YOU DID WITH THEM
REESE
If winter break was a fairy tale, the start of the second semester was a slap in the face from reality.
A snarled wake up and take a look around you! as it grabbed me by the collar and shook.
A condescending laugh that echoed in my bones, a whispered did you really think you could have that?
Yeah. For a delusional moment, I really thought I could have that.
I’d let myself dream of something that had been incomprehensible just a few months ago. Something that was only meant for other people, never me.
I really thought there was something there. That maybe I wouldn’t have to be alone anymore.
I looked down at the notes I’d scribbled, anger rising and rising the more I read. I resented Dean Voss, despised him for dragging me into this, for making me be this person, for making me lie to Dakota.
But I hated myself most of all for going along with it.
Notes:
9/22 ~ Dakota seems to be an ordinary boy so far, if a little annoying. He goes to class, he reads, he sleeps. Nothing of note to report just yet.
11/25 ~ He seems to have some sort of trauma to do with small dark spaces, maybe claustrophobia. Touch helped him. My touch specifically? I think I was wrong about him.
12/1 ~ Dakota is annoying and invasive and relentless.
He doesn’t know when to stop, always speaks before thinking, and says the most aggravating things.
He’s so fucking annoying with his intense stares and his questions and touching me—wanting me to touch him.
He’s so damn irritating, with those stupidly soft lips and those stupidly sexy freckles.
Always in my space and in my mind. Literally crawling around my sanity and just—just eating it up. He’s driving me insane.
1/21 ~ WHERE IS HE?? WHERE THE FUCK DID HE GO????
I dropped the pen, then picked it up and threw it across the room with an angry cry.
He couldn’t even say goodbye? He couldn’t leave me a note or tell me sorry I have to go but I’ll be back, don’t worry?
He just fucking left. Without a single word.
And god, I was so annoyed with myself. Just because someone I’d met four months ago wasn’t answering my calls or texts, I was losing my mind.
Fuck that.
I didn’t give a shit.
I didn’t give a single shit.
He could do whatever the hell he wanted, he didn’t have to inform me. I wasn’t his goddamn keeper.
But I wanted to be, god, did I want to be.
So where was he, damn it?
Two days.
It had been two days since he’d disappeared without a word. We’d woken up, gone our separate ways to class, and I hadn’t seen him since.
I couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d kissed me that morning.
Slow and lazy, like he wanted to savor every second, like there was no rush, no end point, just the slow way his lips had moved over mine, the teasing way he’d nipped at me, his low laughs as I rubbed myself against him, his whispered words, begging me to touch him, to slip my hands under his shirt, scrape my nails against his back, to keep touching him, don’t stop touching him.
He’d kissed me like that, and then he’d disappeared.
When he never responded to my texts that first day, I figured he was busy or his phone had died and I’d see him soon enough anyway.
But then he never came back to the dorm that evening. I waited and waited and waited. I tried to study and failed because I kept glancing at the door, confused and worried out of my mind.
But he never came back.
That night, I hugged my pillow and stared at his empty bed in the dim light of his night light.
For the first time, I was afraid of the dark.
Of total darkness. I was afraid of falling asleep without him there, afraid of the nightmares that had dwindled since I’d been here, afraid that I’d sleepwalk and there’d be no one around to stop me.
I hadn’t sleepwalked this much since after the accident.
After everyone was gone. The stress of it all had given me night terrors, too, and more often than not, I screamed myself awake at night.
It had calmed down over the years, but I thought the stress of getting transferred and everything that happened before and after was enough to set it off again.
In Dakota’s absence, I realized exactly how much he was doing for me, how much my life had changed for the better because of him, and the fear of not having that anymore rooted itself inside me, twisting hard, spindly limbs around my organs.
I used one of his neckties to tether my arm to the bedpost so that I’d stay here while I slept—that was how scared I was. I took one of his shirts, too—just to hold it, to smell it, hoping it could soothe me enough that I’d be able to fall asleep.
The light from the moon shifted across the floor with every passing hour, and sleep didn’t come.
Had something happened to him? Was he hurt? What if something truly awful had happened? How would I even fucking know? Should I go out looking for him? Should I try to find his brother? Should I ask the dean?
The next morning, I fell asleep just when the sun was rising, and when I woke up an hour later, I immediately looked over to his bed.
He wasn’t there. It was still made up neatly, like it was every morning.
I was seriously considering finding his brother or talking to the dean.
I didn’t want to talk to the dean. Not at all.
I called Dakota for the umpteenth time to see if his phone was still on or not.
It was on.
It rang and rang and rang and went to voicemail, and for lack of anything better to say than Where are you, you goddamned bastard? Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been? Are you okay? I hung up without saying anything at all.
I texted him again.
It was pitiful, looking at all the unanswered and unread texts I’d sent. I felt pathetic. Desperate and obsessed and fucking pathetic.
Me:
My philosophy class got canceled, so if you’re free around two, you should come to the room
Do you want to practice our song today?
Dakota?
***
Are you okay?
Did something happen?
Hey where are you?
This isn’t funny
Please text me back
At least let me know if you’re okay or not
Hello?
Dakota I’m seriously worried about you, I don’t know if you lost your phone or something but please text me or call me if you see this
Had he decided he didn’t like me anymore? Had he ever liked me in the first place? Was this all just a game to him?
The doubts grew and festered in my mind, a relentless onslaught of all the fears I’d ignored or shoved down deep.
The past few weeks, I’d been slowly warming myself to the idea of liking him. Of it being safe to like him. Of throwing my fears to the wind and embracing what he had to offer. What I wanted to offer him.
I was torn between being worried something seriously bad had happened to him and being devastated that I’d actually been played by him.
I was feeling those things with an intensity that was almost paralyzing.
I didn’t truly believe he was avoiding me on purpose. I didn’t think everything that had happened between us was just some game to him.
I didn’t.
But I was so insecure in myself and my worth that I couldn’t help but give that thought just a little bit of weight.
I didn’t want to go to class on that second day. The sadness that engulfed me almost convinced me to just lie there in bed all day.
And when I realized the despair I was feeling because someone I hardly knew had ghosted me, I got angry instead. I stormed around our room and got dressed, cursing him out and telling myself I’d be just fucking fine, that I’d been fine for years and didn’t need a single goddamn person in my life.
The anger dissolved into an awful panic, and I wished the anger would come back.
I needed to distract myself, so I got dressed and headed out.
I was on my way to class when I saw Everett standing outside of the athletics building, talking to someone.
Would he know where Dakota was? He must, he was his brother.
He was the last person I wanted to ask, but here was an opportunity to possibly find out what was going on.
I made a beeline for Everett, and when he spotted me approaching him, a nasty smirk replaced the polite expression he’d been sporting.
I ignored it.
“Where’s Dakota?” I asked. I didn’t have time to beat around the bush. “Is he okay? Did something happen to him?”
Everett’s smirk grew. “You’re forgiven for rudely barging in on a private conversation, I suppose.”
I was going to punch him in three seconds if he didn’t answer my question. I balled my hands into fists, and then the promise I’d made Dakota played in my mind.
I said I wouldn’t hit people anymore.
I relaxed my hands. “Where is he? Just answer the question, Everett, and then I’ll fuck off.”
Everett sighed heavily, then gave his companion an apologetic smile. “So sorry, George. We’ll have to finish discussing this later.”
The guy nodded and walked off, but not before staring at my face.
When Everett’s eyes flashed back to mine, they were icy and full of disdain.
His smile had disappeared, too. “Dakota? You mean the rabid dog?” There was a deep, vicious hatred in those words, and I wanted to claw my way down his throat, find the source, and pull it from where it was rooted.
I was sure he’d die without it because hatred and disgust were all he was made of.
He didn’t get to hate Dakota. He was the one that was despicable.
“Where is he?” I gritted out. I was about to walk away because this was looking like an insanely pointless endeavor. I should’ve known better than to approach this evil fucktwat.
But then Everett leaned toward me and said, “He’s at the manor taking a little break from you. Said he couldn’t stand the sight of you anymore. I don’t blame him, although he said nothing about the smell.” He waved a hand between us, as if trying to get rid of a bad smell.
He was lying. He was fucking lying, he had to be. He was just saying that to be cruel because cruelty was in his blood. It was all he knew.