love notes ; zach dempsey [[SLOW UPDATES]]

Eleven;

The day your list came out wasn't too traumatic. I knew it was a joke, and whoever had a copy, they knew it was a joke, too.
But what happens when someone says you have the best ass in the freshman class? Let me tell you, Alex, because you'll never know. It gives people—some people—the go-ahead to treat you like you're nothing but that specific body part.
Need an example? Fine. B-3 on your maps. Blue Spot Liquor. I used to walk there when I had a sweet tooth, which means, yes, I went there everyday.

I turned off Hannah's cassette and thought for a minute. I remember when the list came out. I remember Hannah being devastated, and I remember walking up to her and asking her if she was okay. All she did was shrug and walk away. 

Maybe she didn't think I was angry about being on the list. I had been on the not side of Alex's list, taking first place for worst tits. It was humiliating. People taking your faults and stretching them across a canvas for everyone to see. But Hannah had been on the hot list, and at the time I hadn't understood why that had made her so upset. 

The people who were on the NOT list, got made fun of for whatever was "wrong" with them. People called me a boy for weeks after the list came out. Everyone who was a NOT was ridiculed and humiliated. 

The people who were on the HOT list, they got the special treatment. They got the hot basketball players kissing them against the lockers. 

I wanted that. I had wanted Justin to kiss me and tell me I was beautiful and that I had great tits. Now, I realize the "hot" girls may not have wanted what I wanted.

If I wanted to, I could tell you the name of the person who walked in while I searched my backpack for money. I do remember. But as far as your story goes, Alex, his action—his horrible, disgusting action—was just an aftereffect of yours. Plus, he's got a whole tape all to himself. 

Did I mention I was standing at the counter, visible to anyone the moment they opened the door?

He walks in and he smacks my ass. Did it hurt? No. But that doesn't matter because the question is, did he have the right to do it? And the answer, I hope, is obvious. 

Okay, let's dissect what just happened. First his words—then his actions. Statement number one: "Just relax, Hannah." Translation: Your ass is my play-toy. You might think you have final say over what happens to your ass, but you don't. At least, not as long as "I'm only playing." 

Statement number two: "Just relax." Translation: Come on, Hannah, all I did was touch you with no indication that you wanted me to touch you. If it'll make you feel better, go ahead, you can touch me wherever you'd like. Now let's talk about his actions, shall we? Action number one: Smacking my ass. Interpretation: Let me back up and say that this guy had never touched my ass before, so why now? My pants weren't anything special. They weren't overly tight. Sure, they were slung a little low and he probably got a hip shot, but he didn't grab my hips. He grabbed my ass.

Alex, am I saying your list gave him permission to grab my ass? No. I'm saying it gave him an excuse. And an excuse was all this guy needed. Action number two: He grabbed my wrist then put his hand on my shoulder. You know, I'm not even going to interpret this. I'm just going to tell you why it pissed me off. I've had my butt grabbed before—no big deal—but this time it was grabbed because someone else wrote my name on a list. And when this guy saw me upset, did he apologize? No. Instead, he got aggressive. Then, in the most condescending way, he told me to relax. Then he put his hand on my shoulder, as if by touching me he'd somehow comfort me. Here's a tip. If you touch a girl, even as a joke, and she pushes you off, leave . . . her . . . alone. Don't touch her. Anywhere! Just stop. There are some sick and twisted people out there, Alex—and maybe I'm one of them—but the point is, when you hold people up to ridicule, you have to take responsibility when other people act on it.

My hands were shaking as I removed the cassette tape and put in the next one. But I didn't hit play, I couldn't. I drew in a heavy shaky breath as tears started escaping from eyes, one right after another. I knew who she was talking about, because I knew the kind of person he was. 

Bryce Walker had gone into Blue Spot Liquor, grabbed Hannah's ass, and then joked about it. I wanted to call Alex, to see how he was doing. I know he never meant to hurt anyone the way he hurt Hannah. As much as I wanted to be angry at Alex about his role in everything, I knew that he was just as hurt as I was hearing that I was on these tapes. 

I grabbed my phone and dialed his number. I stared at it for a really long time, trying to weight the outcome of calling him. Finally, I hit the button and pressed the phone to my ear. I wiped my eyes, my nose, and cleared my throat. His voice on the other end of the line made the tears fall faster. 

"Eliah?"

____

A/N

It's been over a year since I last updated.
I haven't been in the best place, but I'm getting
back where I need to be.
I'm so sorry.
But I'm back with the updates, and...
I love you all.

-Kaitlyn