I Was Saved... by the Jerkface

The News

The first thought that entered my brain after Blake uttered that sentence (that awful sentence that everyone hates to hear: "We need to talk.") was simple: Oh, shit.

Those words should be banned from a guy's vocabulary. Actually, they should be erased from the face of the earth. Nothing good ever comes out of the phrase 'we need to talk.'

As the panicked thoughts were swirling around in my head, thinking of every possibility, the only outward action I displayed was to raise my eyebrows in expectation (and also surprise). Blake took this as a sign to continue, and so he did. My heart raced a million miles a minute while he steadied himself with a deep breath, looking as if he were about to get into a lengthy discussion.

"It's not awful, so you can quit having a panic attack," he said, as if it came out without him meaning to.

At first my reaction to that was shock, but then I eventually relaxed. It was Blake - of course he would know when I'm having a panic attack. He is my best friend after all. I exhaled the breath I had been holding in a big gust of air, and I could feel the tension in my shoulders dissipate.

Blake gave me a half-smile, and from that little gesture I almost panicked some more. Why was he acting so weird? It was almost as if that smile was sad! Why was he sad?

"You know how I'm going to be eighteen in a couple of months?" he asked me.

I nodded, wondering what that had to do with anything. "Yeah, in April."

He smiled. "You remembered."

"Of course," I said in a 'duh' voice, allowing myself to grin just a bit despite the cardiac-arrest-inducing conversation.

"Well, when I turn eighteen, I'll be able to legally get away from my dad, get another real, full-time job, and be on my own," he explained, still not past the preamble. He scratched the back of his neck and took a breath, like he only did when he was nervous.

"Okayyy..." I drug it out, still not understanding.

He sighed heavily, closing his eyes for a moment before meeting my eyes and holding them with an intensity I didn't comprehend. "Alright, I'm just going to get it over with, because I can't seem to work around it."

"Oh crap. Oh crap oh crap oh crap," I rambled, truly terrified now. My hands went to my head, scrunching my hair and pulling at it, fearing the worst.

Blake grabbed my shoulders forcefully to get me to stop moving and turned me so I was looking him dead in the eyes. "Annabelle! Stop it. Don't you want to know what it is before you go all ape-shit on me?"

"No!" I yelled, making him flinch. "I don't think I want to know anymore. What if it's awful?!"

"It's not! How can you know unless you let me tell you?" Blake's wide eyes pleaded with me, and who was I to say no to those puppy dog eyes. He was too cute for his own good.

"Alright fine," I conceded, letting go of my hair and lowering my arms. Blake still kept his hands on my shoulders while he steadied himself once more and spoke.

"When I turn eighteen... I'm moving back to Oklahoma," he said slowly. He shrunk back slightly, as if I were going to hit him or something.

This new information took a moment to enter my brain properly. I didn't even fully comprehend what he'd said for a full two or so minutes. When my brain decided to work and let his sentence in, my eyes grew wide with panic and fear.

I didn't yell this time. I didn't think my voice was anywhere to be found, to be honest. I felt that if I started yelling and screaming and kicking like I wanted to - I wouldn't be able to keep myself from crying. And Lord knows I hate crying in front of people, even Blake. So instead of doing what I wanted, I whispered, "What?"

Blake's eyes softened, as if he pitied me. "Do I really need to say it again?"

I numbly stared at a spot below his neck, unable to meet his eyes any longer. I shook my head in response to his question wordlessly.

After another moment of loaded silence, I whispered again, not able to speak in more than one word sentences. "Why?"

"Because it's my home," he told me simply. I shook my head once more, faster this time. If I shook my head furiously enough, maybe the sentence entering my ears would go away. He wasn't really telling me this - it was just a bad dream. A very awful, horrible nightmare.

"No," I whispered, my voice cracking. I could feel warm, salty tears begin to gather in my tear ducts, getting ready to stream down my face, but not quite there yet. I blinked a few times to try and get it to go away, but it wouldn't.

Blake's hands were still on my shoulders, and he used that to his advantage as he pulled me against his hard, muscular chest for a hug. I squirmed out of his embrace, not happy to be near him for once. He couldn't see me like this. I had to get away.

He let his arms fall to his sides when he realized I wasn't going to have any of that right now. I just barely caught the hurt expression in his eyes before he put on a careful poker face, trying not to make me do anything irrational.

I opened my mouth, not really knowing what I was planning on saying. But I had to say something. Didn't I? I couldn't just let him get away with thinking he was moving across the country. Without me!

I shut my mouth after opening it as I realized there was nothing I could say. I could tell by his eyes, his mind was set.

This last morbid thought sent the tears leaking over my eyelids and down my cheeks.

"Shit, Annabelle," I heard him whisper, and he moved his feet to come towards me once more. I took a few steps backward. I didn't need his pity, and all I wanted to do was hide away in a corner for the next five years.

"I want to go home," I whispered brokenly. Without saying anything else, I started moving my feet towards my apartment building, leaving Blake behind.

*****