Why You Shouldn't Lend A Bad Boy Your Clothes

Chapter 31

Trigger warning: This chapter briefly talks about suicide. If that is something you're sensitive to, I would suggest skipping this one. Much love and stay safe xx

Jules

The first few days after Amy's party were the hardest. I didn't eat much and slept even less, resulting in a constant feeling of fatigue and dizziness that made it hard for me to get out of bed. The days seemed to stretch endlessly, but everything that happened seemed to blur together somehow; it was all the same routine of school, work and then coming home and locking myself in my room. The worst thing was that whenever it was quiet and I was alone, the only thing I could think of was Hunter, the way he had kissed Victoria, the look in his eyes when he had seen me in the doorway, the way he had kneeled on the wet pavement, shaking and unable to breathe.

I knew that I had to at least try to forget about him, but I just couldn't. He had made himself a home in the back of my head weeks ago and now it was impossible to get him out.

Even more so when I kept seeing him around school. I had skipped Biology this week, but that didn't mean I could avoid running into him in the corridors or on the parking lot. The worst part about it was the look on his face, so terribly hopeful every time I looked at him and then so devastated when I walked past him without more than a nod. It physically hurt, but I couldn't bring myself to talk to him, not yet.

By now two weeks had passed and I still didn't understand what I was feeling. I didn't hate him like I had expected, and the initial disappointment had ebbed away. What I was left with was a bone-deep sense of missing him and something else I didn't understand. All I knew was that it wouldn't go away if I didn't do something about it.

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A few days later I woke up from my nightmare with a gasp, clutching at the sheets with shaking hands. Cold sweat was trickling down my neck and making my shirt stick to my skin.

The sun was already peeking into the room and over the sound of my ragged breathing I could faintly hear my parents talking downstairs. A glance at my alarm clock confirmed that it was nearly time to get up anyway, so I swung my legs over the side of the bed and walked over to the bathroom.

The nightmare was a familiar one, one I had used to have every night for a few months. I had been lucky to not have it for a while during the past year, but I wasn't surprised that it had returned tonight. After all, I knew what day it was.

By the time I got out of the shower, I was still feeling slightly shaky, but at least somewhat refreshed. After I had put on some comfortable clothes, I crept out of my room, trying not to make too much noise to avoid my parents' attention.

Passing by the familiar white door at the end of the corridor was even harder than usually today. I stopped in my tracks in front of it and rested a hand on the cold door handle.

When I closed my eyes, I could still hear the sound of him playing the drums or listening to Nirvana behind that door. Three years ago, I had heard it for the last time. That morning I had passed by in a hurry, too late for school and too busy to say goodbye.

I jumped back as I heard heavy steps behind me and turned around just in time to see my mom walk around the corner.

She ground to a stop when she saw me standing there, nervous blue eyes darting from my face to the door and back. "Jules, what are you doing there?"

"I... nothing," I whispered. Then I swallowed thickly and tried again, louder this time. "I was just leaving."

But before I could flee the scene, I suddenly felt her hand on my arm. "Are you okay?" she asked, not daring to look me in the eye. "I know what day it is... You're alright, yes?"