I’d be upset if it wasn’t so fucking predictable.
I’m tired more than anything. Tired of feeling like I don’t fit in my own family. Tired of questioning my every choice. Tired of wanting to do better but feeling like I can’t manage it.
Emilia keeps Mom chatting the whole drive back to the house, which gives me the opportunity to stew in my anger and feelings that are most definitely not disappointment, rejection and hurt. I’d have to care to feel rejected and I don’t care anymore.
It’s clear the universe has no intention of giving me a fucking break as we idle in traffic in front of an ice rink. Russ has been on my mind since I woke up this morning, which is not a problem I’m used to having after a one-night stand. He wasn’t what I’m used to, in a good way, and I can’t get him out of my head. I’m trying to not feel bad that things ended without so much as a goodbye, but it’s hard to forget about him when his fingerprints are still decorating my hips from where he held me.
Pulling into the driveway beside my car, the impending goodbye hangs awkwardly in the air as we all climb out. The guilt floods me again, because for all of Mom’s faults, she’d never bail on me for someone else’s kid.
She’d never not call. I’ve never had to beg, cry or fight for her to love me.
The hug I pull her into catches her off guard at first, but she wraps her arms around me tightly and nuzzles into my hair, whispering so only I can hear. “Don’t forget to call.”
“I won’t.”
Emilia waits until Mom is a dot in the car mirror before daring to speak. “You good?”
“I’m fine. I just need plane snacks and to manifest a double Fenrir DNF today.”
Chapter Seven
RUSS
I hate myself for drinking last night.
Why I decided last night was the night to finally relax a little and do what I want I’ll never know. I never quite reached being drunk, but the consequences of slow constant drinking to stay buzzed is almost worse. It means this entire drive has been even more tiring and even longer than it needed to be with a small, low ache in the base of my head. If I’d gotten black out drunk I would have gone to bed alone and I might have had a good night’s sleep for once.
Not sleeping isn’t anything new for me and, after years of sporadic, light slumber, my body operates pretty well on empty. This drive has been rough though and I’m seriously regretting driving instead of flying.
If I’d flown, I could have had several more hours in bed, instead of having to get up and get on the road first thing. Henry and Robbie waved me off, both red-eyed and practically still asleep, mumbling something about rescuing me from horses and cows if I needed them to, but it meant a lot anyway and for the first time in forever, I feel excited to come back to Maple Hills at the end of summer and see my roommates.
Maybe if I’d flown, I wouldn’t have spent the past four hours thinking about the woman in my bed last night. Well, in my bed until she wasn’t. I should accept it for what it was; a one-night stand between two consenting adults. Not something I usually do, generally it takes more than one night for me to get the confidence to make a move, but she was so confident and I wanted to match it.
I’m kicking myself for not saying more to her while I had the chance to. Although, maybe her leaving and telling me without any words that she wasn’t interested in anything more is easier in the long run. I spent so long in the bathroom hyping myself up with one of JJ’s silly pep talks to convince myself to ask her if she wanted to go on a date when I get home from camp, that if she’d rejected me to my face, I’d have probably locked myself back in the bathroom.
Yeah, it was a blessing she left without saying goodbye.
Message received.
One-night only.
I probably made a fool of myself but there was something in her gaze, in her smile when I looked at her. Maybe she pitied me, that would make more sense, to be honest. Pity or not, I’ve spent the past several hours torturing myself with the memory of her soft skin beneath my fingers and her moans in my ear. I know I won’t see her again and I should probably just forget about her, but sometimes it’s not that easy.
If I remember how fucking unbelievable she felt maybe it’ll dull the feeling of disappointment that I didn’t get to ask her out.
The stones crunch under my tires as I turn into the large dirt track adjacent to the huge Welcome to Honey Acres sign. Anticipation drowns all the other feelings in my body and it hits me that I’m finally here after so much waiting. I didn’t go to sleepaway camp when I was younger because my family couldn’t afford it. Mom was reluctant to commit to anything so far in the future, never knowing whether Dad’s paycheck was going on the bills or a bet.