Senior Year

Chapter 2

Josh's POV

Ty made some small talk about my date after confirming that I look okay, which made me a little less nervous about the whole situation. With newly found confidence given to me, I walked out the door. I waited patiently outside the restaurant, at the spot Dan told me to meet him. I stumbled around, kicking rocks in the parking lot to pass time. After about half an hour, I texted Dan. This was starting to get on my nerves.

Are we still on for tonight?

I went back and sat in my car. I didn't want to seem like that loser stuck waiting on their date. My head rest against the steering wheel. Reaching towards my stereo, I attempted to turn on the radio. Turning the knobs did nothing.

"Broken again," I mumbled to myself.

A loud sigh escaped my mouth. There was a small part of me that thought maybe he'd show up. If I only waited a little longer. An hour passed. He still didn't arrive. No text. No warning. Nothing. I started my car and with blurry vision I began the drive home. Home. With a cold stranger that seems like he wants nothing to do with me. I wanted desperately to drive back to Dan. To see him again on good terms.

But I settled for a small dorm and my drums. A ding rang out from my phone.

Sorry! I was unpacking my things at Phil's place, can we make this up some other time?

I read the message, but I did not respond. I couldn't believe he ditched me for Phil. I parked my car and fumbled with my keys, trying to find the right one. My feet dragged as I walked. Once inside, I avoided Tyler as much as possible. My eyes were red from holding back tears and I didn't want to have to answer questions.

Tyler tried to comfort me. I suppose I didn't try very hard to hide my feelings. After a few awkward moments, I went off to my room and slept. Or at least made an effort to.

Four days passed with very little from Dan. He's avoiding me and it doesn't feel very good. I haven't talked to Ty much either. I just sit in my room and pound on my drums. I think I caught him listening to me play the other day.

Today was another one of those days. I sit down at my drums and plug my headphones into my set as to not bother my roommate. Hitting the rubber pads helps relieve my stress. I play through what would've been an entire album before I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket.

Hey, are you busy? I wanted to talk about something.

It's Dan. This is the first message he's sent me all day. I reply with a sharp 'what' and return to my drumming. His response is a phone call fifteen minutes later.

"Hey," I've missed his voice so much. The sound of it almost soothes me before my anger resurges.

"What do you want?" My voice is jagged and bitter, lashing back at his soft british tone.

"I need to tell you something," he pauses. Presumably waiting for some sort of reaction from me, but I meet him back with silence. He sighs loudly, as if to make it a point I should've spoken, "I don't know if I feel the same way about us anymore."

"What?"

"I just, we don't have the same spark as before, you know? It feels like maintaining us is a chore. I'm sorry, Josh," He sounds upset, but not the tear brand of upset. The 'pity-kind' of upset; it's the type that feels like guilt more than anything.

My words get caught in my throat, not finding enough air to mutter out anything more than 'okay'. I quickly hang up the phone. I feel embarrassed to be unwanted. Unworthy of another's love. What made me so wrong?

I pull my keychain out of my pocket. There's a small bottle opener on it. I know it's not very sharp and I'll have to get a weird angle, but it works well enough for me. I sit and scrape away at the skin on my wrist. I don't intend on hitting any veins or causing any permanent harm, I just want some pain to distract me. No blood surfaces, but small red lines appear.

Throwing on a long sleeved shirt and wiping my eyes, I open my door a bit to let Ty know he can go to his bed if he'd like. He wordlessly accepts my offer and sits down on his mattress. We sit awkwardly for a moment before I break the silence.

"Dan broke up with me," I'm just barely loud enough for him to hear me. He doesn't speak back to me, but instead turns back to his notebook. I can tell he doesn't know what to say. My elbows fall and I am now laying on my bed, holding my phone in front of my face.

I toss the device down on the floor. Droplets of water begin to pool in my eyes. I bring my hands to my face, trying to be subtle so that Tyler doesn't see me. He turns towards me tensely, not saying anything. It feels like forever before he finally speaks.

"Hey, Josh? Are you okay?"

I don't move. My eyes are stuck to the wall nearby. Everything is blurry and unfocused. I begin to wonder what life would've been like without Dan. Would I have been better off?

Tyler comes over to my bed, sitting closer to me than I would've liked him to. He grabs me by the wrists; instinctively I flinch back, pulling away from him. He looks down at my arms with a shocked expression.

"Hey, woah. Josh, what?" He shakes his head gently. He looks disappointed in me.

"It's not a big deal, Tyler. I'm fine." I snap back at him harshly. This isn't his place to pry. But then again, maybe he's just trying to help. I turn away from him and ball my sleeves up in my palms.

I wish he would just leave me alone. I don't want him to know me like how I know me. I don't want to have to push all of my problems onto him. Tyler doesn't deserve that. Nobody does. Nobody wants it. Nobody wants me.

"Josh, just stop. Clearly it's a big deal."

I sigh back at him. Anger begins rising in me. I turn around towards him again, at first with fire in my eyes, but after looking at his solemn expression, I realize he is not trying to put pity on me. He's not trying to make me feel inferior. I can calm down, maybe even open up to him. He stares into me trying to decode what's going on in my head. If he found out, perhaps he could tell me. I'd really love to understand myself.

I suddenly snap out of my thoughts and retaliate back at Tyler, "Oh yeah? And how do you know that?" I almost feel bad for being so rough with him.

"Because you didn't call me Ty."

I just stare back at him, tilting my head slightly. I'm confused. Is this really his discerning factor? The fact I called him Tyler? I guess I do call him Ty very frequently. He must be very observant to catch that.

"I just loved Dan so much," I paused so that my voice wouldn't crack, "I'll be fine, okay? Don't worry about me," With that, I walked out of the room, into another small room that serves as a kitchen. I lean against the counter and go over what just happened. Why would he try so hard to comfort me? Did he really care about me?

Did I care about him?