Dear Love, I Hate You (Easton High)

Love: From what?

He stops replying.

I spend the next fifteen minutes overthinking. Shit… am I actually worried about him? My fingers type out a second message before I know it.

Love: Zac, what’s going on?

Zac: I can hear them.

I don’t put the pieces together at first.

Until the obvious explanation reveals itself to me. He just said his mom screwed everything with a heartbeat. Is that what he’s hearing? His mom with… someone else?

Oh my God.

Love: Holy shit. Your mom?

Five more minutes elapse before he texts back.

Love: Zac???

Zac: Sorry, I was projectile-vomiting.

Love: That’s awful. I don’t know what else to say.

Zac: Just say you’ll stay.

Love: I’m staying.

The image of Zac slash possibly Xavier locked in his room, trying to drown out the sound of his mother cheating on his dad, is sickening to me.

I’m dying to ask him why she’d bang some loser with her kid in the house, but abstain in fear of pouring salt into his wounds. Only explanation I see is, she doesn’t know Zac is home.

Love: I wish I could hug you right now.

Zac: Fair warning, if you hugged me, another part of me would probably hug you.

I snort.

Boys, I swear.

How they can be discussing serious topics one second, then talking about sex the next, I’ll never understand. Although something tells me he’s just deflecting. Desperate to think about a sexual scenario that doesn’t include his mother.

Love: DOWN, BOY.

Love: You don’t even know what I look like, remember?

Zac: We’ve been over this. I’m like 99% sure that you’re my type, L.

My chest tightens as images of Xavier’s driver’s license flash before my eyes. Well, if Zac is who I think he is…

He’s definitely my type, too.

I hate that I want to rip open his soul and deep dive into the darkest corners of his mind. Figure him out. Understand what makes him tick. I’m not supposed to be this curious. We literally made a pact promising not to be curious.

Love: Have you ever had people close to you die?

Ten seconds go by.