Page 58 of The Attack Zone

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Page 58 of The Attack Zone

Oh, shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“And then you said that you’ve wanted to fuck me for a long time,” she continues.

How do I handle this?

What do I say?

Will she be mad at me?

The questions swirl through my head a million miles a minute as I brace for impact.

“Did you know they were trying to get us together?” she finally asks.

“What? No,” I say. It’s a lie. Thomas told me right away. Why am I lying to her?

“It just seems weirdly convenient that you had a thing for me and no one else knew. You seem to tell Thomas and Caleb everything,” she says.

I do.

“Well, I didn’t tell them about us,” I say. “You wouldn’t let me.”

“Because I value my privacy, Mitch,” she says.

“Well, I don’t get to have privacy. I don’t get a choice,” I say sharply.

She lets out a sigh and scoots away from me. Fuck. What am I doing?

“Have you even searched my name on Twitter?” I continue, because I can’t stop talking. Or in this case, yelling.

“No, Mitch. I don’t need to know what a bunch of superfans think about you,” she says.

“They think I’m a fuckboy. A loser who’s out partying all the time. Is that something you’re willing to be associated with?” I say.

“Mitch ...” she says in a warning tone.

“What?” I yell. “It’s true. I’m a fuckup, and you have a reputation to keep up for your business.”

Why am I giving her reasons to not be with me when I think I might want to be with her? Why can’t I shut the fuck up? I don’t even think these things. Not really.

“Why are you picking a fight right now, Mitch?” she says.

“Because ...” Because ... I don’t fucking know why. Why am I acting like such a dick?

“I thought we were past this,” she says, standing up.

“How can we be past the truth?” I say as I stand, throwing my arms out dramatically just to really hit it home.

“What truth, Mitch? What reality are you living in right now?” she asks.

Not this one, I realize. My brain feels like it’s buzzing, like it’s disconnected from the rest of the world. It’s making connections that don’t exist. It’s making me think I both deserve the world and don’t deserve shit at the same time. It’s making me angry with Stacey because she’s who’s here. I know I’m not fully myself right now, so why can’t I stop?

“Mitch, did you take your meds today?” she whispers.

And that does it. I snap. “Fuck you, Stacey,” I yell, taking a step back to create enough space for my flailing arms.

“Mitch,” she says calmly. “I can tell you aren’t feeling well.”




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