Page 78 of Getting It Twisted

“It’s not just society’s rules he doesn’t follow. It’s social cues too. Manners.”

I roll my eyes. “Whatever.”

“Let’s get back to you and Nathan,” April says. “So you found out about the photos. What happened next?”

“Well, it sort of led to us talking about graduation day.” This is the bad part—the part I’d like to forget. “So basically . . . We had sex at a party that night. I thought he wanted it at the time, but turns out he didn’t.”

“But . . . he was drunk, right?” April asks.

“Yeah, like hell. We both were.”

“So even if he said he wanted it, you know he couldn’t consent, right?”

“I . . . I know that.”

“So you get what this means? You understand what you did?”

“I . . .” I close my mouth. At some level, I always knew that what happened between us wasn’t right, but the gravity of what I did, how badly I hurt him . . . I didn’t get it. The pain of him leaving me always overshadowed the guilt of my own actions, but I did worse to him than he ever did to me. I didn’t understand—not until now, so long after the fact.

What I did makes me no better than his abusers. Worse—because he trusted me, and I betrayed that trust out of my own selfish needs. I chased Eric and Tyler away, yeah, but that should’ve been it. I should have gotten Nathan dressed and taken him out of there. But he reached for me. He kissed me, and I was so elated at having him—responsive and pliant, his hand fumbling for my fly . . . I thought he wanted me, and I wanted it so badly to be true.

So I took him. I forced my own twistedness onto him when he couldn’t reject it.

I hurt him.

“God. Oh god.” I press the heels of my hands into my eyes and shake back and forth. Tears seep into my sweaty palms, and Ican barely breathe through the tightness in my throat. “I’m . . . I’m such a fucking idiot.”

“You kind of are,” George says. “But . . . we all do stupid shit when we’re drunk. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

“What do I do?” I whine, the world a cold and horrible blackness behind my stinging eyes. “What the hell do I do?”

April puts a hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay. You made a mistake. You were drunk, and—”

“It’s not okay. Fuck, it’s not okay.”

Nathan needed me to protect him and care for him, but I not only failed to do so—I did the opposite. He can’t forgive me for that, not when I can’t even forgive myself.

“There’s something I don’t get,” April says. “When he came back to town, the first thing he did was get in touch with you. If you hurt him, why would he have wanted that?”

“Because of convenience,” I say, sniffling around a sob. “Because he needed someone to sleep with while he was here. He told me so himself.”

“I’m not so sure that’s the whole truth.”

“Well, the alternative is worse.”That he used me to hurt himself.

George shrugs. “Yeah, I dunno. Dude’s a little fucked up.” He does a loop-the-loop with his finger by his head. “Who knows how his weird little brain works? Maybe he just thought you were hot. Don’t overthink it.”

“I’m fucked up too. More fucked up than he is.” At least Nathan only picks on people his own size. To everyone else, he’s got a good heart in him. To Jessie. To animals. And to an extent, to me. Again and again, he’s shown me he’s not the heartless jerk he makes himself out to be at first glance. Meanwhile, I’ve been stuck in my own head, thinking he didn’t care enough about me. As it turns out, I deserved everything he’s done.

I deserved to be left and abandoned for five years. All I wish is that he would’ve talked to me, but at the same time, I understand why he couldn’t.

Even if we find a way back to each other, how can I make sure I don’t hurt him again? Maybe the only way I can have him in my life is by keeping my distance. I definitely shouldn’t be having sex with him. Perhaps we can be friends, then. Distant friends. But that’s not the way we are; we burn together, hot and bright. The heat we generate burns scars into him and into me. How can I help him heal when he doesn’t want to? How can I soothe his burns instead of making them worse? Nathan is charred to begin with; he doesn’t need any more fire to burn his flesh.

“I hurt him,” I say, head hanging pitifully to my chest, “and now I can’t make things right.”

“Don’t be so sure,” April says. “Maybe you guys can still work it out. People who love each other usually do.”

“Nathan doesn’t love me.”