Dear Love, I Hate You (Easton High)

But, fuck, when I heard her…

Heard her gasp as she rubbed melting ice down her body. Her shy little moans down the line. Hottest shit I’ve ever heard in my life. To think we didn’t even get to the good part, and I still had to beat off three fucking times just to function properly.

I scroll down our conversation, checking the text she sent me less than a minute ago.

Love: Z?? Everything okay?

She’s worried.

I haven’t answered her all day.

Good. She should be thinking about me. No, you know what? I hope she thinks about me so much she loses her fucking mind. Only seems fair since she’s been taking up every inch of space in mine.

I reread her text.

Everything okay?

No, it’s not.

The only girl I’ve ever given a shit about is the girl I can’t have.

I didn’t expect our phone call to rile me up the way it did. It’s as though I’m eight times more on edge since I had a taste of the forbidden fruit. A sip of the holy elixir.

I know what I’m missing now.

And it stings like a…

Remind me again why I’m not trying to find her? This horseshit anonymity pact might’ve made sense once upon a time, but now? We’ve gone too far, dived into water too dark, too dangerous to remain strangers.

She has to know that.

Hell, sometimes I think she knows me better than my own best friend. In the heat of the moment, I let my anger takes the reins and send her an impulsive text.

Zac: Remember when I swore I’d never try to figure out who you are?

She texts back right away.

Love: Yeah…?

I don’t think, don’t hesitate, don’t sugarcoat it. I just draft out my warning and send it.

Zac: Sike.

I time her in my head, count backward to the panic I know is coming. Freak-out in 3,2,1…

My phone chimes once.

Love: What???

Then again a second later.

Love: Zac, what does that mean?

And again.

Love: You’re kidding, right? Please say you’re kidding.

Zac: Dead serious. I need to know, L. It’s time.