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No one would know I liked men if I kept my mouth shut, but some secrets were more visible, yet just as dangerous.
It was bad. I knew it was bad, and even when I recognized things were getting worse, even when I noticed how the small lines on my wrist became more compact, longer, thicker, and started venturing onto other parts of my body, I couldn't stop. Even when I wanted to. Even when I tried. It was something completely out of my control, yet at the same time, it gave me the control I so desperately needed.
But it would fade with time. They always did.
You see, depression had this way of sucking the personality right out of you, leaving its victims nothing but a shell of their former selves.
“I'm not really interested in dating right now.” False. I’m not interested in dating girls.
If anything, it'd be the other way around—I'd much rather steal him from Amelia.
That wasn't an option, and it never would be. Even if I needed help, I didn’t want it.
He knew I’d see it… Oh. He wanted me to see it.
“If I hear you say one more thing about him, I will fuck you up so bad that your own parents won’t recognize you.”
I’d heard a lot of people say a drunk man’s words were a sober man’s thoughts.
Because it was against their religion? Now that was a crap excuse. People who used their religion as an excuse to oppress, discriminate, and hate against others were worse than the very people they deemed sinners.
“He runs a camp upstate. He helps people like you,
Fuck that
“I can see it in your eyes… your smile never reaches your eyes.”
“Are you aware that you have a type?” “Uhm,” I paused, “I haven’t given it much thought before.” “Well, allow me to explain. In seventh grade, you dated Jenna Myram. She’s white, has brown hair, and green eyes. Freshman year, you dated Sienna Hale. White, brown hair, green eyes. Sophomore year, Megan Clarke. She also has brown hair and green eyes. Then fast-forward to now. I have all of those things, too. At first, I assumed that you just had an alarmingly specific type, but then I realized that wasn’t necessarily true.” “Okay—so what if I like white girls? What does that have to do with
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So what if he likes men?”
good dad
Why did this sound like a goodbye?”
Cause it is :(
“I hate seeing you like this, hurting. I can’t—I can’t. I don’t want you to be in pain, I don’t want you to hurt or cry or be here. And I want to hug you and kiss you and tell you everything’s going to be alright, but I can’t, because you’re not alright. You’re already hurting, and a kiss won’t magically take your pain.”
He knows. He knows I like him… A firm hand wrapped itself around my knuckles, another pressed against my chest to cushion me from the punches. Why did he kiss me? Why is he holding my hand? This can’t be real, it can’t. It’s impossible. “Aspen?” The voice was a distant echo my brain chose to ignore, my anxious thoughts consuming me. “Aspen.” It was a different voice. It shook me—made me shiver. Rafe was squeezing my hand, trying to get my attention. “Stop—please stop hitting yourself.” My hand froze a couple of inches from my chest. I looked down wide-eyed at the tightly wound fist cupped in
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“It’s okay now,” he murmured against my skin. “No one’s going to hurt you here.” I let out a deep, unsteady breath. “I know.”
People like you—who use their religion to spread hate—you’re the real scum. You use your bible to say that people can’t love someone of the same sex, well, does that bible also say that you can physically hurt them? Does your fucking religion excuse murder?”
“I wish I knew sooner. I wish I could’ve helped you. Maybe if I was there for you, things wouldn’t have turned out like this—maybe things wouldn’t have gotten so bad…” he murmured. “But you’re here now. That’s more than enough for me.”
“Fuck you.” “Only in your dreams,” I teased. Rafe raised an eyebrow. “Only in my dreams?” An enormous smile broke out onto his face, showcasing his perfect teeth. “Hmm,” I smirked. “Maybe in my dreams too.” “Oh?” “Oh?” I mocked, leaning down so my mouth was right next to his ear. In a breathy whisper, “But in my dreams, I’m fucking you, too.” “Oh,” his voice cracked.
“Dating? Why would that matter?” Cam didn’t look up, but he did look about ready to throw his phone at the wall.
I love cam
I moved away from Rafe and saw Alex on the ground, Zander gripping his shirt with his left hand while his right drilled into his face.
I know what religion means to me, and now I’m figuring out how it fits into my life, because the type of Christian I want to be, is not the one that I was.”
“I told Cam I would get there early to help set up.” “Cam’s going early?” Rafe raised a questioning brow. “Cam? Getting out of bed before ten a.m. of his own volition?” “Piper’s going to be there.” “Ah.” A look of understanding dawned on him. “Of course. Does this mean we get to watch her reject him again?” “Probably.”
“Not all of us grew up in California. Some of us are from states where the largest body of water is the pool at the closest high school!” “Hey, guys!” I cupped my hands around my mouth and turned to the several players that had begun to show up, lighting up the park with noise and laughter. “Next time, let’s go to the pool! We’ll get to see Cam with floaties!” “I’ll lend you my daughter’s!” Akio sniggered with a beer in hand. “She’s got these princess ones she outgrew last year. I’m sure you’ll love them!” “Screw you, I’d look fucking hot in princess floaties!” Cam paused and looked at Piper.
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He slipped off the edge.
NO FUCKING WAY
“Bring Cam with you, too.” “Don’t you talk to him enough? I swear, you FaceTime him more than you talk to your own boyfriend.” “Rafe,” I gasped, “are you jealous of a straight boy?” “I’m jealous that he’s taking up all your time.”
