The Way I Am Now (The Way I Used to Be, #2)

by Amber Smith

“You know she wanted it, and then when he didn’t want a relationship, she decided to screw his career.” That wave returns now, and I can feel my face getting red. “That is exactly why you don’t dip your dick in crazy.”

Fuck this man

“Bitches probably want a payout! You know how the pussy is….” I can’t even hear the rest of his sentence because the wave is pushing at me as I step behind him, too close, it pushes past my chest, into my throat, out of my mouth. “Hey, do you ever just shut the fuck up?” Jon turns, stupid mean grin still on his face, and behind him, the freshmen’s eyes go wide—I must be looking like something scary to them. “Sorry, my bad, did I upset your delicate sensibilities?” he says, patting my shoulder in mock comfort, the spot he touches radiating heat, practically vibrating. I know I should leave, but the other Josh has a point to make. “No, I’m sorry, do you have some kind of problem with not sexually harassing women, or what?”

Loved Josh since book one

“Sure, but you have time to push your woke agenda about a bunch of bitches crying rape? Please, you’re so—”

“No, I mean really, because this is a lot. A lot for anyone, even you.” “Dominic. Stop. She’s worth it.” But I feel myself getting all emotional again—angry, sad, it’s becoming harder to even know the difference anymore.

He looks up at me when they’re in the middle of a huddle and smiles. I feel flattered, then giddy. But there’s something else following right behind. It’s a sinking feeling that settles into my stomach in the place where those butterflies were fluttering earlier, like someone just threw a bunch of gravel on top of them, smothering out their fire, destroying their wings. And with that image, I name the feeling: unworthy. I’m strangely, suddenly, acutely unworthy.

“I’m just being honest—I thought you said earlier you liked that about me.” “Well, now you’re being mean,” he whispers, leaning close to me. “To yourself.”

This would stop me dead in my tracks

I am this… disaster, I am this thing that is incapable of not fucking everything up, I am this curse on the people I love. I never thought anyone could hurt me worse than I hurt myself. But knowing that he thinks the same terrible things about me that I do—it’s too much to even process.

Because I am this, and someone needs to protect him from this, even if it has to be me.

The universe wants to test me? Fine. Bring it on. I’ll fail—that’s what I’m best at.

Its so hard seeing your own thought process on paper

“Just a reminder to”—she breathes in deeply again and exhales before continuing—“to try to be the kind of person you think I am.” “What kind of person is that?” “I don’t know, someone who’s resilient instead of destructive. Hopeful instead of… you know, feeling doomed or powerless or whatever. Brave,”

For once I feel like it’ll be all right. Me. Her. This fledgling us.

This makes my heart feel so happy