Hate You - LN

27 - Lando

Max went to his room shortly after I got back from coffee with Charles. I could tell he wanted to stay, he's always been able to see right through me and see when I'm not okay. But P, his girlfriend, was arriving at the airport and he promised to pick her up. He made me promise to make it to dinner tonight and I'd agreed, so I'd at least given him that since I wasn't even willing to sit up to talk to him when I got back.

I set a timer for twenty minutes before our dinner reservation in case I fell asleep, but I've been lying awake with no problem. Which is odd, since I usually fall asleep about thirty seconds after I sit down anywhere.

Since I got back I've been lying on my bed in the hotel room just thinking over everything. My head is a complete mess. I've been trying to think of what might have happened to her and all my thoughts have kept spiralling deeper into a self-pity pit. I wasn't there for her. I made sure of it.

I feel like I need to shower but I know nothing will wash off the feeling of disappointment that I have in myself. No matter what I do now, if I find a way to let her go at the end of the year, or if I somehow figure out how to apologize to her or get her to open up to me, I'll never make up for not being there.

For not allowing myself to be there for her.

It's dark outside, but I have no idea what time it is. The only thing that I do know is that the ceiling has eight tiles across the long side of the room and five on the short side. There are also six pot lights in the ceiling, one of them flickers every five seconds or so. The room smells like fresh linen, and my belt digs into the skin that sits underneath the top button of my baggy jeans.

My ears are ringing in the silence, the uneasy evenness of my breath the only sound in the room.

It's like years pass until I finally hear the door key buzzes and then the handle turns with a click. I turn my head to look at the door just as Devin walks through the entryway with a tired step. She's dressed in a baby blue sweatsuit and is dragging her white suitcase behind her, it catches on the metal seam where the door sits shut on the floor and she gives it an extra tug so the wheels skip across it into the room behind her. Devin's hands are full with what looks like her phone and passport, as well as her over-ear headphones and a black scrunchie wrapped around her wrist. Her hair is down loose around her shoulders, the long strands messed up slightly around the neck of her hoodie.

She looks beautiful.

She looks over at me, lying on the bed and her eyes go wide. "I thought you would be out."

I shake my head then realize she may not be able to see the movement from where my head lay on the blankets, encased in the hood of my hoodie. "No, I'm thinking I might cancel on Max tonight too. I'm not in the mood."

"Is everything all right? Is your shoulder hurting or something?" She asks, concern in her voice. Although she's much quieter than normal.

I hear another clatter, this time it's from Dev's suitcase being tipped over on the floor beside the closet. It stays closed but falls beside mine. Quickly, I try and stop her worrying about me. "No, it's fine. Better even. You should know that I didn't barely see you last weekend."

Slowly she nods and the concern leaves her face. She looks almost- guilty. But there's no reason for her to be so I must be mixing that with something else. She sighs. "Jon's capable, and your shoulder doesn't need anything intense anymore. You should be back to one hundred percent by the summer break. If not then, by the end of the year."

Hearing her say that should have been the biggest relief. All I wanted before she came back into my life was to keep racing and make sure that this injury didn't take away my racing career. But that was before she came back into my life. Now my shoulder is second on my list of concerns. Devin is the first.