[Sequel to The Merciless Black List Of Highland High]
Secrets and lies.
The very flesh and bone of the infamous Shameless Foursome guys.
Collin Adamms, the supposed creator of The Shameless Virginity Games, knows what it's like to make mistakes t...
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fucked up like the rest of us
As much as I try to pour all my focus on Timothy who's nervously stopped in front of me several minutes ago, I can't seem to be in charge of my eyes and hold my attention away from the corner at the end of the hallway that Cassidy disappeared behind after the little banter she and Timothy had gotten into.
I wish I could say the way their interact with each other surprises the living shit out of me every time I witness it, and to be honest, yeah, it does. But I've been exposed to quite a handful of these kinds of interactions among the two of them before, and despite my undying need to expose the truth and finally be on the same page as everyone else, I couldn't be more disinterested in poking around in their weird friendship, or whatever the hell what they have should be referred to as, right now.
I just want this to be over with. I want this whole fucking day to be already over because every second spent in this disgusting hospital room makes me feel more and more as if the walls were closing in on me.
I hate hospitals. My dad, my mom, and now Collin. The memories this place is giving me are starting to claw at my brain way worse than I deemed possible.
Closing my eyes for a split second before turning back to Tim, I take a moment to inhale a deep, calming breath, even though it doesn't provide a calming effect at all. I cross my arms in front of my chest, prompting him to talk. "So?"
It sounds so casual, as if we were in the middle of a totally random conversation, when we're anything but. For some reason, I'm searching his eyes, his face, the whole upper part of his body in an attempt to find whatever indications of his drug use. It's not unlikely he's on something -- harder than weed -- too, and I just need to know if I pegged him the wrong way, just like I did Collin.
"I was on the phone with him," is the barely audible sentence that slips out of Timothy's mouth and knocks the breath straight out of me. He's not done yet, though. That much I can gauge from the way he nervously shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and moves his hand to the back of his neck. "He called me pissed off, told me he's on his way to my house--"
He cuts himself off abruptly, and even though I'm still processing his words and don't know what he was about to say, I'm more than one hundred percent sure he was about to say something more. "And what?"
His brows knit together and he shakes his head slightly. "And nothing. I guess he wanted to discuss something, I don't know."
"Tim." I don't want to push this, and I don't want to get into a fight with him because there's no energy left in my body for that, but for once, I need him to be honest. "Please don't lie to me."
Maybe the pain that's consuming me from within actually shows on my face despite how sucked out of emotions I feel. Maybe he's able to see it, because he briefly flicks his gaze toward the ceiling above his head and sighs heavily, "He wanted to know if I slept with you. He was pissed because he thought I did and --" he pauses again, pressing his lips into a thin line, "He . . . has feelings for you, so . . . that would hurt him."
