Dear Love, I Hate You (Easton High)

I let Xavier Emery go down on me, then fuck me in the bed of his truck in the middle of the night in a public parking lot. I gave him the best of me tonight without the slightest concern as to what tomorrow would look like.

And it terrifies me.

As though my emotions are stamped across my forehead, Xav tilts my chin up, smacks a thousandth kiss on my lips, and looks into my eyes so deeply I wonder if he can see my walls disintegrating.

“No going back, Harper,” he rasps, recycling my line.

All my doubts and worries vanish into thin air.

My heart swelling in my chest, I kiss him again, clutch his face and manage a shaky “Never.”

Aveena

Aveena: Hey, are you okay? You weren’t at school.

Wednesday

Aveena: Xavier?

Wednesday

Aveena: It’s been two days. I’m worried about you.

Thursday

Aveena: Are you mad at me or something?

Thursday

Did you know it was possible to be irritated by your own breathing? To feel so irked, so aggravated by the faintest sound you wish you could turn it all off?

Just for a moment?

A second?

I didn’t.

Didn’t know how painful silence could be until silence was all I had left. My life’s full of it lately. It’s roaming the halls, bouncing off the ceilings, lurking at every corner.

Reminding me of what I want to hear.

Like my phone buzzing with a reply from Xav.

Slumping against the couch and resting my phone on my lap, I contemplate how awful the past two days have been. Whispers and laughter have been shadowing me down the halls since I stepped foot into Easton on Wednesday morning.

I knew people suspected me of being Love by Brie’s comment in the “Find Zac and Love” group, which I had to join to alleviate suspicions, but I was far from prepared to become the school’s pariah.

Only people who deign talk to me anymore are Dia and the guys. I still eat lunch with the jocks, and while Finn and Theo turned out to be very supportive, Axel and Lacey are more than happy to test the shit out of me.

They keep trying to get a rise out of me by bringing up my dad’s suicide and how I slept with my sister’s man to see if they can get me to flinch.

Cry.

Get mad.

Anything.

They want nothing more than to see me break, and it’s taken superhuman strength for me not to bat an eye at their cruel “jokes.” Thankfully, that’s as far as it’s gone. No one’s had the guts to confront me about the rumors yet.