“We'll revisit … this,” I whisper, pointing back and forth between us, “after we know.”
“Fair enough,” Tobias whispers, and then he kisses me again, leaving the sweet taste of a high school crush along with the bitter sadness of a broken friend on my lips. It's too much. I stay calm until he leaves, and then I race into the bathroom and turn the water on scalding. It hurts like hell, but I climb in and let it wash over me as I plug the drain and let the shower fill the tub for me.
I stay in the bath until my skin is pruned, but it doesn't make things easier.
Grief sucks.
It's like a little demon that dogs your every move, no matter how fast you run, how well you hide, how much you fight against it. It's there, ready to latch on at any moment.
Wrapping my arms around my knees, I lean my forehead against my legs and close my eyes, letting the water drain until my body feels too heavy to hold up.
When I get back to my room, I stare at my laptop screen for a long, long time, hoping and wishing and praying for those little dots from Spencer to tell me he's typing. My heart races at the thought, but no matter how long I stare, things don't change.
My hope won't bring him back to life, will it?
Finally, I get desperate and message Monica instead.
Even though things went bad, I miss you. That's all I say. Because it's the truth. Losing Spencer is making me realize how many things in my life I've taken for granted. After a moment, I text my mother as well, but I know she won't be able to respond for a while. No phones allowed in rehab. At least, not the kind she goes to, these luxurious spa-like places that my dad pays for even though they've been divorced for years.
Sleep finally takes me, but the Sandman must be seriously slacking as I wake up just a few hours later to the sound of rain pouring outside, thunder cracking in the distance.
“Fucking shitty northeast weather,” I grumble as I climb out of bed, blinking through big, white circles as I try to force my sleepy eyes to focus on the brightness of my laptop.
No messages from Spencer. Or Monica. Or my mom.
Hope you're getting some sleep. That one from Tobias. Just that. And from only a few minutes ago. I tap out a quick reply, head to the bathroom, and pee while I wait for a response to my brief storm woke me up message.
Me, too. Do you want to come over?
I hesitate for a moment, and then type out a quick yes, pulling on a heavy rain jacket, boots, and grabbing my stupid emoji face umbrella that Monica got me. It's the cringing face, you know, the one with the teeth? Anyway, she says I make that face all the time, so it was only appropriate that I have a matching umbrella. Personally, I hate it, but it was a gift, so I accepted it graciously. And by graciously, I mean I made that exact cringing face.
“Hey,” I whisper when I open the front door and find Tobias, all cute and soggy and wet from the walk up the hill. He's all alone which I don't like. Just because he's a dude doesn't mean he's any better off wandering around campus by himself. “You shouldn't have come up here alone.”
“I didn't.” He nods, and I squint at a figure in the distance. It's Micah, with an umbrella decorated with cherries. He's standing near the bench in the curve of the road, leaving his brother to get soaked from the storm.
Nice. Twin infighting.
I step out, closing the door softly behind me, and hold my umbrella over Tobias' head. It's hard not to stare at him, with his red-orange hair bleeding into his face, his long lashes beaded with water from the rain. We link hands and start down the path, Micah moving ahead of us. I don't blame him. Everyone grieves in their own way.
An eerie chill passes over me as we slip through the back door into the dorms. A flashlight sweeps down the hall and Micah pushes us back into an alcove, pausing as creepy Nathan the night watchman shines his light toward the open door and curses.
He shuffles our way, keys jangling, boots scuffing against the floor.
“Goddamn it,” Micah curses, digging in his pocket for a key. He opens the closet behind us, and we slip inside with our wet umbrellas. Hopefully Nathan won't notice the puddle on the floor. More than likely he won't because, let's be honest, he's a pretty shitty security guard.
There's cursing about those stupid fucking kids, and then the sound of the door opening wider. Micah peeks out to see what's going on.
