Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 84289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
“Nevermind,” I tell him.
Hunter and I shower off and head back across campus.
The air is cold, but it feels good after a workout. Students crisscross in every direction along the quad, but once we’re past main campus and closer to Red Row, the bustle begins to thin out.
Hunter’s been chatting about Christmas gifts he’s brainstorming for his boyfriend, Rayne, and I’ve been doing my best to give good advice.
But as we hit Red Row, Hunter pauses on the sidewalk for a moment, and he gives me a concerned look.
“Oliver, you’ve been a good friend to me this semester, so I’m just going to be honest with you,” he tells me.
The cold air blows against my hair, still slightly damp from my shower.
“Please. I need a little honesty right now.”
“I don’t think you should be doing this.”
I pull in a breath. “Was afraid you were going to say that.”
“I know you’re probably going to do it anyway, and you have every right, but I think it’s probably a bad decision that’s only going to get you hurt.”
I nod. “I know.”
“Yet you’re totally still going to do it, right?”
I step on a crunchy leaf, looking down at the ground out of some sort of shame.
“I need to.”
He hums. “Okay. I’ve said my piece. I won’t tell anyone it’s a fake relationship, but please, try to protect your own feelings.”
“Protect my feelings? Hunter, I think I’m safe with that. Niko isn’t exactly capable of producing feelings in me.”
He gives me a doubtful look. “Ollie.”
“If you think I have any potential of falling for Niko Berlant, you don’t know him like I do. He was my worst fucking nightmare for the final year of high school. It’s not possible.”
I feel my phone buzz in my pocket again and my chest goes hot.
I check Niko’s text without showing Hunter, this time.
Would you wear this for me?
Beneath the text an image pops up. It’s a gold necklace with a small gold dragonfly at the end of it, shorter in length than the one he wears.
No. What are you trying to do, collar me?
Exactly. You’d look hot in this, Ollie.
Listen, I just want a date to the parties, I don’t need you to act like I’m your possession, okay?
Would you get a dragonfly tattoo instead?
Die. Slowly.
Already ordered the necklace by the way.
Something about his last text makes me see red.
Like I don’t have a say in anything, at all.
Like he’s the one in control again, even though this whole fake relationship was my idea.
I text him again.
You know what? Forget it.
I lock my phone, turn it on silent, and shove it back in my pocket. I’m clenching my teeth hard as I follow Hunter down Red Row, and a silent volcano is erupting inside me.
“You’re right,” I tell Hunter.
“Hm?”
“I’m going to call it off.”
Hunter turns in the wind and squints at me. “Oliver, are you okay?”
I try to hide the anger inside me, but with every step closer we get to Onyx House, I want to explode.
“I think I am finally okay. For the first time in two weeks. Because I’m finally realizing how fucking idiotic it was to do this with Niko at all. Going to tell him the fake relationship shit is off when we get back.”
“Wow,” Hunter says. “Okay. Proud of you.”
I let out a frustrated sigh, leaning my head back in the wind. “But I know he’s going to try to work his way back under my skin. I have to figure out exactly what I’m going to say. Make him realize it’s really not going to happen.”
“Whenever Rayne can’t figure out what to say, he writes it out. You could try that.”
“Your boyfriend’s a lot better at social stuff than I am.”
“All the more reason you should write it in a letter. It helps you collect your thoughts. Makes it harder for the other person to convince you you’re wrong, too.”
Hunter’s right.
I am a fan of journals, after all, and writing helps me parse my thoughts.
I can write it all out, every stupid reason why this was a bad idea, and make sense of my emotions in the form of a goddamn letter.
As soon as we’re back in Onyx House, I head to the Reading Room. It’s a room on the bottom level that we use to study, and it’s one of the only reliably calm places in the frat house. I find a pen and a sheet of paper in one of the old wooden desks.
I sit down at the desk, and I write.
I’m there for at least half an hour, starting the letter, hating it, then walking over to the fireplace to burn it and start over again.
Finally, I settle on one clear, concise message.
And then it’s done.
I fold it in half and walk up the stairs toward my room.
I’m going to give Niko the letter tonight. He’s been getting back late usually, sometimes at 11 o’clock at night.