Page 26 of Ricochet

I thought maybe it was just because of the state I was in, that I was only craving the comfort he was offering. That it was just because it was him who was guiding me through the attack like he had done it before.

But here I am drawing his eyes just so they can see me again.

I want to rip this page out and keep it in my secret book because the thought of those eyes seeing anyone else the way they’ve seen me…

My phone vibrates on the bed beside me, and I pick it up to see a text from an unknown number.

Unknown Number: Feeling better?

I recognize the area code, one from Pennsylvania. It’s pretty easy to guess who the number belongs to.

Me: How’d you get my number?

Stone: Nate gave it to me because I told him I had your lab manual. Want me to bring it by?

Me: I’ll get it from you in class tomorrow if that’s ok.

Stone: Sure. And you didn’t answer my question.

Looking back to the first text he sent, I run my hand through my hair as I consider how to respond. Or if I even want to.

I start typing, delete it, and start again. Then I delete that too.

Stone: Callum? Please tell me you’re ok.

Stone: Or I’m coming over.

Me: How do you know where I live?

Stone: I have my sources.

Something heavy settles uncomfortably in my chest as I stare down at the texts.

Why the fuck does he care?

Why did itfeellike he cares when he was standing in front of me while I was pretty sure those shadows were going to snuff the life out of me?

Stone: Practice just let out. I’m sitting in my car. Where am I going?

More importantly, why do I want to tell him to come over?

Why do I want to see him when part of me still hates him? When there’s so much I have to hide and he’s the only person who’s ever truly seen me?

I hate all these questions I can’t answer.

Me: I’m fine, I swear. I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t mention it again.

Stone: You got it.

I sigh and hit my head back against the headboard.

Why the fuck does he have to be so nice about it?

Then again, I’m the one who’s been the asshole. He’s only ever lashed out when I have, and even then, it hasn’t been every time. He’s let me get away with treating him like shit an awful lot.

I suppose…

Me: But thank you. For today.