Bad Boy Blues(97)

“Is that what you think you are?” I ask. “Weak?”

“What?”

“Do you think you’re pathetic, Zach? Fucked up? Is that what you think about yourself?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I came to your room tonight because I wanted to confess something,” I begin. “I saw you today. Going up to tower one. I followed you. I know I shouldn’t have but I did. And I saw you with your mom. Y-you were taking care of her. She’s sick. That’s why you came back, right? To be with her? I –”

My words get cut off when Zach comes on me in a flash and his threatening fingers wrap around my jaw, pulling my neck up.

He’s tall and big and naked.

Somehow, his nudity makes him even more menacing. Maybe because I can see what fury does to his body. The effects of it aren’t hidden by clothes. Every muscle is set tight like a trap, ready to snap open and cut me in half.

“If you ever run your mouth about this –”

I shake my head, making him stop. “Never. Your mom’s health isn’t my business. But you’re not worried about that, are you?”

I grab his wrist and pull it off my jaw. I stand up for good measure too.

If I’m going to have this discussion with him, naked no less, then I’m going to gather my sheet around me and stand up.

I’ll come out shorter, but at least I’ll get back my dignity.

Because everything makes sense. Everything is crystal clear now.

I know why he won’t talk about his reasons for coming back. It has nothing to do with his mom’s sickness but everything to do with him.

“You’re not worried about me saying something about your mom. You’re worried that I know why you came back. You’re worried that people will find out you came back to take care of your dying mom. You don’t want them to know that you spend your days with her, locked up in her room, helping her through her coughing fits. Keeping her company.”

“Shut up.”

I witness his face getting angrier, tighter, but I don’t stop. I can’t.

“That’s what you do, don’t you? You sit with her and watch mindless TV just so she’ll have someone by her side. Why do you do that, Zach?”

He bends over me like a black cloud. “If you don’t shut your mouth right now, I’ll shut it for you. And you’re not gonna like how I do it.”

His threats mean nothing to me.

I’m not afraid. Maybe I should be but I can’t be scared when I’ve discovered such a simple thing about him.

“You do it because you love your mom.” I squint up at him. “And you hate that. You hate that you love a woman who’s never put you first. Who’s never loved you. Isn’t that right? Your dad’s a bully. By what I saw, your mom doesn’t care and you hate that you’re here for her.”

And now that I’ve connected all the dots, I can’t stop talking.

“All this time I kept thinking that you’re too damaged for love. Either to want it or to give it. I thought the way you grew up, you lost it. That ability to be open and vulnerable to someone, and I wouldn’t have blamed you. You had a shitty childhood. But somehow, that’s not the problem. Is it, Zach? The problem isn’t that you can’t love. The problem is that you can. You can love. You’re not damaged. At least not to the extent that you’re incapable of it.

“That’s why you won’t tell anyone why you’re here. You don’t want anyone to know how after everything, you still love your mother. Why? Because you think it makes you weak, doesn’t it? It makes you pathetic.”

I shake my head as I see him in a new light. I can’t believe I didn’t figure it out before. I didn’t realize how much of a victim he still is.

“God, Zach. Your world still revolves around your bully. You’re still so wrapped up in what they did that you haven’t been able to move forward. You’re still so angry and hateful. You have to move on, Zach. You’re ruining your life because of them. You can’t –”

My words come to a screeching halt when Zach moves.

He marches over to his dresser, still naked but somehow so powerful, his muscles rippling. He fishes something out, spins around and throws it at me. All in jerky movements.

It’s a t-shirt.

I don’t even have the time to realize my confusion when he strides right back and grabs my arm in a harsh grip, his eyes manic and his breathing wild.

“Zach –”

Pulling at my arm, he starts walking, dragging me behind him.

“Zach, what are you doing?”

I’m stumbling; my feet are getting caught up in the sheet. I want to pull it up but my hand is fisted around it to keep it in place, along with the t-shirt he gave me.

A second later, that’s not what I’m thinking about, the tangled-up sheet, because he opens the door and delivers the harshest pull, shoving me out of his room.

Did he just…

Kick me out?

I whirl around to find him at the threshold.

“Put something on and stay out.”

He shuts the door with a bang, leaving me wrapped up in his sheet and clutching his t-shirt.

Panic claws at my throat, my stomach. I’m shaking. Frantically, I look down at myself and then at the empty, dimly-lit hallway.