Can’t.
~CHAPTER FIVE~
Cheyenne
The next day, I still can’t get over Tattoo Guy. I mean, what was his problem? I didn’t do anything to him. Even if he didn’t want to go through with it, he didn’t have to be such a jerk about it.
It’s always the hot ones who are a**holes. I used to think Gregory was the exception. Obviously I was wrong there.
My heart is beating about a million miles an hour as I get ready to go to class. With Gregory. And if I remember correctly, Red, who I never paid much attention to, but will now.
I’d rather my heart didn’t beat at all if that didn’t mean I was—well, dead. But I can feel my control slipping. Feel myself getting panicky. Again. That’s what I hate Gregory for the most. I finally have the control I need and he’s taken that away from me. He makes me feel like I’m going to have a breakdown. That’s not something I’ll let myself do. I won’t lose it.
When I lift my brush to my hair, my hands are shaking. Shaking. Get it together, Chey. I concentrate on running the brush through my chocolate-brown hair. It reminds me of Hershey Bars—which brings a memory of Mom flooding back to the surface. She loved chocolate. I remember a time when we had it for dinner for three days straight.
Fighting back those thoughts, I brush again, letting it take the tremor out of my hands. That’s one memory I don’t mind letting drift to the surface—for a few seconds at least. Mom always used to brush my hair and I loved it. It made me feel taken care of when I was anything but.
My dorm room door opens and Andy walks in. She scans me quickly before saying, “You look nice. Don’t tell me you’re dressing up for your ex.” She walks past me and flops onto her bed.
“Umm, thanks?” I’m not sure what else to say.
“Holy shit. Don’t tell me you’re going to be like that. Don’t get all stressed out because I told you I like girls and then said you look nice.”
“What?” I whip around. I hadn’t even thought of that. “I didn’t even think about that, thank you very much. I just don’t get why you think I’m dressing up.” I look down at my mini-skirt and wedges. The skirt is purple and my tank top’s white. I’m not sure what’s so dressed up about it.
“You dress like that every day?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” I love my clothes. Love that I have them. I didn’t always.
Andy shrugs, but I can see her looking down at me. Her nose is crinkled and I bet she doesn’t know it. I want to tell her she doesn’t know what it’s like—to go from having nothing to having everything. To wearing the same thing for days and then having so many clothes to choose from that I lost count. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to look good.”
She shakes her pink-haired head at me as though she thinks I’m ridiculous. I’m about to tell her where she can stick it when she says, “There’s a party tonight. It’s supposed to be a good one. You’re welcome to come with Veronica and me.”
“Oh…um…” The truth is, I’m not sure I can go to a party without Gregory. I’m always a little nervous at them. I got over it, because that’s what I do, but I’m also close to having panic attacks again too.
Gregory doesn’t even know I have them it’s been so long, yet now I can’t seem to stop my fingers from curling and my chest from feeling tight.
That’s not all.
I hate admitting it, even to myself, but what if he’s there with her? Will I be able to handle it? And…I don’t really know Andy either. What if we don’t get along? What if they leave me? I don’t want to be alone. Can’t.
“Just an offer. You don’t have to hyperventilate.”
I turn away from her, busying myself with makeup. I am breathing heavy. I can’t believe I’m getting so worked up over this.
“I’ll help you find your mama.”
Just like they did all those years ago. My eyes start to sting. Liquid drips over the brim, but this time it’s colored with my make-up.
“Hey, are you okay?”
I concentrate on my words as I speak them. “Yeah. Fine. I just poked my eye.”
I do everything to try and fight this off. I’m over it. Past it. The new Cheyenne who doesn’t have such a screwed up past.
“I can’t do the party tonight. I forgot I have plans.”
I hate Gregory even more for unearthing my past. Maybe it’s me I should hate for letting it slip back in, just because of a guy.
Or maybe it was never gone in the first place.
***
I walk into class right before it starts. My head is high, no sign of the tears that tried to drown me earlier. I’m over it now. Gregory, Maxine or anyone else isn’t worth becoming that scared, lonely girl I was when Mom would leave me. I won’t let myself be the one left behind again.
I don’t keep my eyes from scanning the room. Not in a needy way, but in a nonchalant, I don’t-give-a-shit one. I catch Gregory’s eye across the room and don’t turn away. He gives me a small smile, which I don’t return, before he looks away. I sit tall, hands shaking in my lap proud I’m not coming apart. All sewn up tight the way I’m supposed to be.
***
I take my time gathering my things when class is over. Not because I’m weak and can’t handle seeing Gregory and Red. Whatever. I’m over them, but I’m tired from lack of sleep and I’m not going to be that girl who has to rush out of class so I don’t run into them.
I hear her laugh and I cringe, accidentally knocking my stuff to the floor. Great.
By the time I make it out, the large room is empty except for my professor who’s not paying me any attention. I leave the room and step into the busy hall. People carry books, coffees, weaving around me like I’m not there. My stomach suddenly aches.
I turn, ready to head to my next class when I see them. Gregory and Red. He has her pressed against the wall, his lips on hers and his h*ps grinding into her. Yes. Right there for the world to see. I want to puke. The jerk has been calling me non-stop, leaving voicemails and he’s making out with her right in front of me?
Who the hell is this guy?
“Don’t cry, Princess. You know what they say. You have to kiss a lot of frogs before you meet your prince.”
I recognize the voice of Tattoo Guy right away. I turn around to tell him where he can stick it, but he’s already walking away from me.
Screw him.
Screw Gregory.
And screw anyone else who tries to shove me aside. I’m fine on my own. I’m going to that party tonight and I’m going to prove them all wrong.
~CHAPTER SIX~
Colt
When Adrian said the frat guys were having a party, I was definitely down. Crashing pretty boy parties is always a good time. Plus, it’s a good chance for me to make money. Frat boys are some of my best customers. Let’s not forget I also get to meet girls—both things that are high on my list.
Before I head out I stop by Mom’s house. She sounded like shit when I talked to her on the phone today. I get a knot in my gut every time I think about seeing her and then I feel like a pu**y because I’m her son and she’s dying. I should be able to handle it better than that. For her.
For some reason, my heart jackhammers when I step inside the apartment. I run a hand through my hair, which annoys the shit out of me. I hate nervous habits like that.
“She’s sleeping, Colton,” Maggie says from the kitchen.
I make a turn and head toward her. “How’s she doing? How’d her appointment go today?”
Maggie sighs. Her gray hair is tied back in a bun that disappears when she turns to face me. “They’ve added another medication. It’s stronger to help with the nausea and vomiting. Also more pain meds.”
I lean against the table. “Fuck.”
“Do you kiss your mama with that mouth?”
I know she’s trying to make me smile, but I can’t right now. “Not in the mood, Maggie.”
She walks over to me, a sad look in her dark eyes. I know this is almost as hard on her as it is me. She’s the best friend Mom’s ever had.
“How much, Maggie?”
“You don’t want to know, Colton.”
“And the lease is up in two weeks. You know they always raise the rent when it’s time to sign a new lease. Hospice will take care of the meds, I’m more worried about rent and bills.”
Will she need a new lease? As soon as the thought crosses my mind, I feel like the world’s biggest prick. She will. She has to.
“Fuck,” I ground out again. Does it ever stop? Jesus, she’s done nothing but try her whole life. She’s been there for me, worked her ass off and when she could have easily left me behind like Dad did. She didn’t. Not when Dad was in and out of jail. Not when we ate Top Ramen every day.
This is the payment she gets?
“I’ll pick up some more hours. Maybe do some odd jobs or something.” Maggie touches my hand and I say, “I should have gone. I was wasting my time in a stupid classroom today and I should have been with her.”
“You know she wants you in the classroom. You’re going to live her dreams and that’s what matters to her.”
I don’t reply to that, but say, “I’m gonna go in and see her.”
I make my way to Mom’s room. She’s lying in bed so still, looking ghost white. My heart drops somewhere to my feet. Holy shit, she looks dead. She can’t f**king be dead, can she?
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to stare?” Mom’s eyes flutter open. I let out a heavy breath.
“My mom tried to teach me manners, but they didn’t stick so well,” I tease as I walk into the room.
“Yes they did. You just like to pretend they didn’t.”
I pull up a chair beside her bed. It’s so different when they know you’re dying and they can’t do anything about it. No hospitals. All there is to do is wait. And medicate. Always medicate.