Toxic (Ruin #2)(4)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

The room fell silent. Great. Perfect. I shrugged and forced a smile. “Oh, you know, my demented cousin claims it’s a dry spell.”

“Right.” Wes snapped his fingers. “I almost forgot about that fun little piece of information.”

“For the last time!” I all but yelled. “It’s not a dry spell if it’s by choice!” I rarely yelled. Everyone stared at me like I’d just lost my shit. I was a lover not a fighter. The slutty flirt that slept with anything it could. The guy who could charm the pants off a federal judge. Yelling? Anger? Yeah… I bit my lower lip and scowled at the floor. Tick-tock, tick-tock. I really was losing it.

“Right.” Wes’s eyes narrowed. “Hey, uh, Gabe, I need help with something. Can you come with me to my room real quick?”

“Sure,” I said slowly, my eyes darting between him and Kiersten. She pretended to be totally oblivious to the tension between me and Wes.

“See ya, at dinner, Wes.” She kissed his cheek and skipped into her room slamming the door behind her.

“Use protection.” Lisa called after Wes and me once we reached the door.

“Hilarious!” I yelled above her laughter.

We walked in silence to Wes’s room. Why did I suddenly feel like I was about to get a dad lecture? I was sweating. What the hell!

The elevator was silent as it made its way to the sixth floor. You could hear a pin drop. I followed Wes down the hall and finally into his room.

Even though he’d gone through cancer treatments at the beginning of last year, they still allowed him to stay as Freshman RA, so at least I knew we wouldn’t have roommates barging in on us while he laid into me about raising my voice around girls.

Once we were inside, he shut the door, locked it, and threw one of his footballs at my face.

“Why?” I ducked. He threw another one. I barely caught it before it smashed into my nose. “What the hell, Wes!”

“Finally!” He all but shouted. “A reaction. You’re like a freaking zombie. What gives? And don’t lie. Kiersten said you were acting weird this morning too.”

I yawned, attempting to look bored, even though my palms were sweating something fierce. “Nothing, man, just school stuff.”

“School stuff?” Wes repeated. “You really wanna go with that excuse?”

“Drugs?” I offered.

He snorted. “Yeah, right.”

“Jackass.”

“Whore.”

“Wes—”

“What?” He took a seat by his desk and crossed his arms. “What’s going on?”

I didn’t spill my guts. I knew I owed him everything — hell, I felt like he practically saved my life when he almost died, he made me feel like living again. His strength was like gravity, pulling everyone within a fifty-mile radius into its center. You couldn’t help but want to be better when you were around him, and that was the problem.

“I’m aging man, and we both know cancer can come back at any time.”

“Seriously!” I threw the football back at his face. “This is what I’m talking about!”

“What?” He caught the football and twirled it in the air. “Speak up, I can’t hear you.”

I groaned into my hands, “You’re so damn perfect. It really is irritating as hell.”

“Thanks.” He flashed a smile.

“I’m serious.”

“I know.”

I groaned again.

“Gabe—”

I reached into my pocket — the locket was cold against my fingertips. “Have you ever messed up so bad that—”

“That what?”

I averted my gaze. “I just… you’re my best friend, don’t get me wrong, but I feel like you never do anything terrible. You’re smarter than most therapists, you have tons of money, you’re like a freaking god around this place… Oh right, and a walking miracle. Check all those off the list. I know life hasn’t been easy for you, but you don’t mess up, you roll with the punches and move on. I just wish I knew how to do that.”

Wes laughed out loud. “Wow, a little freaked out that your opinion of me is that high. Do I really need to make a list of all the times I’ve screwed up in life?”

“It would help,” I grumbled, crossing my arms.

A few seconds of utter and complete silence went by. I didn’t mind though. Wes and I were like that. We didn’t always have to be talking or arguing or laughing. Sometimes silence was what I needed most and he knew that about me. He knew more than anyone — even Lisa. And I had a sneaking suspicion he knew every damn part I played was an act.

“What’s really going on?”

“The weight.” I cursed. “It’s wrapped around my legs, pulling me deeper into the darkest depths of the ocean and for once, I want to let it.”

“Why?”

My head snapped up. Wes’s eyes didn’t hold judgment, just concern. “Because I deserve to sink.”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

“No, you don’t get it.” I got up and started pacing. “You know how you always felt like nobody understood? Remember when you said you’d drink shitty coffee the rest of your life if you could just live? Remember all those talks about people just walking through life without a damn clue about your pain? Your journey?”

Wes nodded.

I started to sweat. I gripped the locket harder until it had to be making an imprint onto my fingertips. “How does a person deserve life?”

“Trick question,” Wes answered softly. “We don’t.”

My phone simultaneously buzzed and sounded in my pocket, interrupting our talk. It was my mom’s ringtone — she’d called at least five times in the last hour. I knew I should probably talk to her, but it just brought up too many bad memories. And, I was officially late for class.

I stabbed at the ignore button and grimaced at Wes. “Listen, I gotta go. Can we talk later?”

Wes waved me off. “Of course, just don’t go jumping off any buildings or sleeping with the entire swim team again and we’ll be good.”

I rolled my eyes. “Later.”

“And don’t forget Taco Tuesday!” he yelled as the door slammed shut behind me.

Chapter Three

My reflection was foreign… I didn’t even remember myself — the guy I was. I’d been living with that damn mask for so long that I’d completely lost it — all of it. Thank God. —Gabe H.