How was he going to react when I told him what happened at college? When I told him about my insane run half naked run through the quad?
Tears burned the corners of my eyes and I rapidly blinked them away. God, it was so wrong. Even Kendall had retreated when I spiralled into that black pit of despair. She had no idea what was going on and as crazy as she was, she'd taken a step back because I scared her that much.
Matt was still bitter over Kendall. He'd said she had left when things got rough. That she wasn't a true friend. And then he'd blamed her for that drug and alcohol fueled weekend when everything had fallen apart. She'd started out partying with me that Friday night but as things heated up and turned sour, she'd left.
The thing of it was, even though what he said was kind of true, I didn't blame Kendall. Not really. He hadn't seen me at my worst so he didn't know just how far I had fallen.
I wasn't easy. I was dark and twisty. And I was dangerous.
Kendall disappeared for the first few months I'd been in the hospital, calling only a few times and never visiting. There had always been an excuse. Her new job. Some new guy she was banging. A family obligation.
And I got it. I got that what I was, and what I had done, wasn't easy for most people to handle. Hell, it was hard for Matt and he was my brother.
So how was Ben going to react when I dumped this on him? Did I really want to know the answer? Wasn't it obvious? He was riding the wave of a shooting star and I … I was just struggling to keep my head above water.
I began to shiver and for a moment everything inside sped up. My heart raced and heat burned, scorching from the inside out. I moaned, hating the way the pieces inside me rattled and shook and moved. It was chaotic and scary.
It was crazy.
Sweat broke out along my forehead, leaving me cold and shaking. Shit, I couldn't let this escalate. I closed my eyes and concentrated. I reached for the words, the words and melody I needed.
Is it getting better? Or do you feel the same?
I focused on the song, One, by U2. Seamus had suggested this in one of our first sessions. He told me that when things started to get chaotic if I could manage to focus on something that calmed me, it would help.
Music helped. Music had always helped. I heard Bono's voice. I felt his passion and I let the melody wash over me. It slid inside and got into my head and it pushed the bad parts away.
I'm not sure how long I leaned against the window, chest heaving, skin cold and clammy. But eventually the pieces inside me slowed, they clicked and lined up. My chest relaxed and I was able to breathe easier.
I decided that a run would help.
In the dark and quiet I changed into my gear, grabbed a water bottle and tip toed out of the loft. I'd ran every single morning with Ben and his sister, out along the back country roads near his place and this morning, here, alone, it just wasn't the same.
Those early runs settled me in a way I couldn't replicate and even though I ran longer than normal, the demons that knocked hard just wouldn't quiet. They followed me every step of the way and when I got back to the loft, I was wound tighter than when I'd left.
Matt was still asleep-not surprising, he wasn't alone-and as the darkness fell into grey, I had a quick shower, took my meds, got dressed and in less than five minutes was out the door.
Joe was just coming on duty and even though I wasn't in the mood to make small talk, it was hard to avoid his kind eyes. I waved a quick hello, and we chatted for a few minutes about nothing important-he didn't usually work Saturdays but the weekend guy had called in sick-and then I headed to the parking garage toward the silver BMW that had been the last gift my parents had given me for my eighteenth birthday.
It had been delivered from storage a few days earlier because Matt was tired of lending me his wheels.
Rain was just starting to fall as I pulled into Ben's driveway. His truck was gone and I parked in his spot, my stomach twisting as I sat staring at the house for way too long.
He wasn't home, but then what the hell had I expected?
Guys like Ben didn't spend their Friday nights alone. Guys with money and fame. Guys with eyes that could make any girls heart go crazy. Guys with no ties. No girlfriend.
I was nothing. Not really. It's not as if we had any sort of defined relationship. In fact all we had were our morning runs and a few hot and heavy make out sessions.
I'm not sure how long I stayed in the car but it was long enough for the windows to fog up and for the humidity to seep inside. My skin was clammy, my stomach in knots and my mouth dry. I checked my cell phone once more but there were no text messages. Nothing in my voicemail.
I bit my lip and cursed. Maybe he was inside. Maybe someone had borrowed his truck.
Are you that fucking stupid?
It was nearly eight by now and I was either going to leave or …
I pushed open the door and ran up the steps to Ben's front door before I lost my nerve and with my heart in my throat I rang the doorbell and waited.
And waited some more.
I rang it again and tried to peek through the window to the right, but it was no use. I couldn't see inside but it was now official. He wasn't home.
I took a step back, smoothing my light blue cotton skirt over my hips as I bit my lip in frustration. Where was he?
All sorts of things raced through my head and all of those things ended up with Ben in bed with some bimbo. The bimbo he'd met at the airport. The bimbo who'd yanked out her tits for him to sign. I was shaken and hated how affected I was by the thought of him with another girl.
He wasn't mine. He didn't belong to me.
"Whatever," I muttered.
I ran down the steps and paused. Did I really want to go home and play nice while Matt tried to get rid of whoever the hell it was who'd moaned her way through several hours the night before?
No. God no.
I took a sharp left, following the path that led through Ben's back yard, through the trees that surrounded it, and out to my barn. My studio.
He could fuck whoever he wanted. I was going to show him that I didn't care. This was my space and I would spend the day painting and Ben Lancaster could go to hell.
I worked on a piece I had started a few days earlier and just like all the others lately, a large gaping mouth opened in the very center of the canvas. The face was androgynous with undefined features and as I stared at it, I knew this person was screaming. Screaming to get out. Screaming to escape.
Screaming to live.
I grabbed my tools and got to work and it was hours before I put down my brush and stood back, admiring my handy work. The air was thick with humidity. It stuck to my skin, shrink-wrapped my white tank top to my body and filled my nostrils with summer.
My heart was beating fast and I exhaled in an effort to calm myself, running a hand through the thick, tangled waves of hair that fell past my shoulders.
I took a step back, my eyes moving to the window. Outside the rain washed the glass in a blurry stream and the images beyond weren't clear. I saw color. Green. Pink and purple. Brown.
I took a step toward the door, my mind racing and it felt as if my skin was pulled too tight. Before I could think about it, I tossed my white flats and stepped out into the rain.
The grass was soft beneath my bare toes and the colors I'd seen from inside popped. Grass. Flowers. Earth.
Raising my head to the gray sky with my eyes closed, I stood there, letting the gentle wash roll over me and slide down my body. I still felt heavy but the rain was somehow light. It was warm and the sound of it in my ear was calming.
Several long moments passed and with each of them I felt the tension lessen. The heaviness evaporated like raindrops on heated blacktop.
I glanced toward the trees. I saw their branches bend toward me, beckoning me, and slowly walked toward them until I disappeared inside their embrace. The rain still fell, cleansing the earth, maybe cleansing my soul and by the time I cleared the forest my body was humming something fierce.
I was in hyper mode and I swear I could hear the grass growing, the ants beneath their shadow, scurrying through the puddles … the blood rushing through my veins, the frantic beat of my heart.
I rubbed moisture from my eyes-was it tears or rain? And it was then that I saw him.
Ben stared at me from across the yard. He was shirtless, hands shoved into the front of his jeans and rain soaked hair a mad mess that clung to his face and neck. He was far enough away that I couldn't see his features clearly, but I felt him.