Not today. Going to stay in. See u tomorrow?
:)
My sanctuaryhas become more crucial now since I can barely stand to be in the same room as Heather and Tristen for an extended period of time. I don’t get tunnel vision anymore, but the urge to flee is as strong as ever. They were the ones to suggest taking me away from my parents. Who does that?
It’s late, and I’m curled up under my throw blanket, reading, when I hear the garage door open and close. Rhys is home. My stomach does its fluttering thing again, and I squeeze my eyes shut.
Why? Why? Why?
Last I checked, Tristen is still up, and it’s confirmed by muffled voices from below.
All of a sudden, the noise level rises. "WHAT DO YOU CARE?!"
I sit up straight in bed, my dread about the fluttering immediately forgotten. Footsteps pound up the stairs, and the door across from my room slams shut.
What the hell?
I bite my lip and clasp my hands in my lap. I don’t remember the last time Rhys shouted at Tristen. Not even...uh, nope, not even two years ago. He just disappeared.
I fist my throw blanket, forcing myself to stay put. Why would I check on him? He’s made his choice to move on with his life. Slowly, my grip on the blanket loosens through its own volition, and my legs slide off the bed. Opening my door, I notice the light coming from the first floor, but when there is no movement, I tiptoe across the hall.
I don’t bother knocking. Despite the only illumination coming from the streetlamps outside his window, the outline of Rhys sitting at the edge of his bed is clear as day. His shoulders are hunched, head hanging low, hands resting on his legs.
"Go away, Cal."
Cal, not Lilly.
I halt for a second, but there is no backbone in his words. My heart aches, and after closing the door behind me, I cross the distance between us. Getting closer, I see he is in black sweats with a matching black hoodie, and his hair is still wet. He looks like he came from the gym. It’s late on a Friday night; why is he here?
Unsure what to do, I lower myself down next to him and tentatively wrap my arm around his shoulder. Rhys’s body goes rigid, but after a shuddering breath, he melts into my side. His arms wrap around my midsection, and his head nestles into the crook of my neck. Feeling his breath against my skin makes my entire body go ablaze, and I close my eyes.
This is not about me or my messed up physical reactions; I’m here for him. I squash the urge to flee to my room and pretend I never heard the exchange between Rhys and Tristen. Instead, I return his embrace and realize I’m...home. No words are spoken. We just sit, and he clings to me.
I’m not sure how much time passes, but I hear footsteps moving around downstairs, and Rhys stiffens at the same time. He untangles himself. "You need to go!"
"But—?"
"NOW!" he hisses.
He pulls me up and, after a quick peek down the hall, pushes me toward my room and closes his door immediately, without another word. The light in the kitchen turns off, and the bottom step creaks. That’s my cue to move. My door shuts when I see Tristen’s head appear near the top of the stairs.
Heart pounding, I stand in the middle of my room and expel all air from my body.
I should’ve gone to Magnolia’s.
The next fewdays continue the same: I hide at Denielle’s or in my room, school, homework, practice with the occasional gymnastics meet, repeat. Rhys has been absent once again. Heather and Tristen act like it’s the most normal thing in the world that their son doesn’t come home, which adds to my irritation.
Tuesday, I get the first glimpse of Rhys. I’m on my way to third period when I spot him standing down the hallway. Wes’s head is inside his locker as he digs around like a stoner hunting for his stash before a random drug search. Not that health-obsessed Wes would ever do drugs—he doesn’t even do caffeine, though he makes people believe he’s coffee addicted. Anyway, Katherine gropes Rhys per usual, one hand under his shirt and clearly on its way down the backside of his pants. But that’s not what stops me in my tracks. It’s Rhys’s posture. He is as stiff as a board and doesn’t return her touches at all. Hands stuffed deep in his front pockets, his features are blank while he stares at Wes’s backside. As if sensing me, his head swivels in my direction, and I quickly step behind a group of freshmen. I’m wracking my brain if he’s been like that the entire time and I was too focused on Katherine’s actions that I didn’t notice it.
Swallowing a lump in my throat, I turn and head the other way.
After the firstfew nights back, I start keeping a second bag of clothes at Wes’s. That way, I barely have to go home. I stopped texting Lilly on Sunday, and I haven’t seen or talked to her in days. Not true, I’ve seenplentyof her retreating form in the hallways, and I’m not a fucking idiot to not catch on to what she’s doing. After all,Iinvented the avoidance tactic in the McGuire family.
Now, it’s Friday, and I head home to repack a new bag when I run into Dad. He’s up later than usual, which I didn’t take into account. Everyone went bowling tonight since there is no party, but I decided on mythirdworkout for the day.
Wes is mad as fuck. I’m camping out on his couch but refuse to tell him shit. And now I also make up excuses to not hang out with him and our friends. I would be pissed at me as well.
Whatever. I’d rather wallow in my self-pity alone.