Page 37 of This I Promise You
We break apart.
“What the hell are you doing here?” someone calls out. I can’t figure out who while my adrenaline spikes and everything becomes hazy.
I need to get out of here right the fuck now. I can’t think of anything else. My body chooses flight over fight as I throw Easton off of me onto his bed, grab my jacket, and run. I run, I run, I run. I don’t even notice who was in the doorway, I just push past them. Fuck the elevators, I run down six flights of stairs at warp speed. I race through the lobby with someone yelling my name. Or maybe it’s in my head?
I don’t know and I don’t care.
I burst through the door and fumble for my keys. I can barely see my hands. My face is wet, but my brain can’t compute why. I just need to go.
Footsteps rush up behind me and Easton stops near the trunk of my car. “Paul? Paul, what’s wrong?”
My eyes snap to his. “I—” is all I can get out through my dry, hoarse throat.
“Paul, what the hell is wrong with you?” Easton asks. “Please just talk to me.”
I bite my lip and squeeze my keys so tight I think they might draw blood. “I just can’t. I can’t. So just…leave me alone.”
“What do you mean you can’t? What are we even doing here then? I thought… First you’re a giant asshole, then you’re actually kind of nice and I thought— Goddammit, I don’t know what I thought!” Easton says. His face is red and he’s yelling. I keep my eyes down, not wanting to know if people are staring.
I can’t look at him. I just can’t.
“Look, I’m sorry. You’re cute. Really fucking cute. And a bit of an asshole, too, but not really. I’m just not worth it, okay? It’s best we stop before we hurt each other. I’m sorry.”
I’m frantic, but I finally get the key in the hole, open my door, turn on my car, and throw it in reverse before I can even get my door shut.
Fuck all traffic, anything. Speed limits and stop signs don’t exist right now. I jump a curb and a horn blares. I almost get hit as I whip into my apartment complex parking lot. I throw my car into two spaces, put it in park and scream.
I scream and scream until I can’t scream anymore. I pound the steering wheel again and again and again until my hands hurt. I cry and I cry. I can’t stop crying. I crawl into the back seat and curl into a ball while I try to catch my breath. But I can’t breathe, I can’t.
Someone help, I can’t breathe.
Someone…help, I…can’t…
Someone help.
Someone.
Anyone.
What do I do?
I kissed him. He kissed me. I liked it? Hereallyliked it. He likes me. I like him? But…
I can’t. I can’t like him. I can’t go through this again. I can’t. I won’t. Liking means loving and loving means pain. Love is always pain. Love isn’t real in the way people think it is.
Love is forced compliments and required time. Love is gaslighting and lies. Love is unwanted soft touches that wake you up in the middle of the night.Love is someone you trust coming into your room and pulling back your Winnie the Pooh sheets and pressing close to you. Love is them forcing you to stay quiet while they press into you and you feel the pain of them taking up space inside you where you know they don’t belong but think it must be okay because they say it is. Love is thinking you can’t say anything because doing so would ruin everyone’s life.Love happened over and over and over again foryearsno matter how many times Ibeggedand Ipleadedfor it to stop. Love pounded me in the chest, told me to “Shhhhhut up, Paulie. You’ll wake everyone up.”
Love is the idea of a reprieve that’s only followed by betrayal. Becauseloveis being blindsided while showering before school, and calling in sick as blood’s running down your leg and you’re only the husk of a soul.
Alcohol. Love is the bitter smell of alcohol.
Love is weakness. Love is shame. Love is pain.
Love is…sleep.
I let my lungs fill, hold for seven seconds, then exhale.
I let my lungs fill, hold for six seconds, then exhale.
