I Just Wanted to be Edgy Too

Chapter Forty-Three

Ellie

I think it was the light shining in through the window that woke me up first. It danced along the corners of the room, splattering light against the walls. I stretched before bringing my knees to my stomach, and squinted against the pain between my eyes.

I felt awful. My body ached and even my skin felt sore. I was wearing a black t-shirt that wasn't mine, that fell just below my hips. I smoothed out the front of it, instantly being met by the smell of sweet mint and tobacco.

Van.

I burrowed myself further into the blankets of the bed. Everything smelled like him, and I let it consume me. I missed him so much, and this pacified all of the weeks we weren't around each other. It was satisfying to me in a way Barns never was. I knew I shouldn't compare things to each other, but how could I not? Years with Barns were fighting against every new feeling I had for Van, and the new feelings trumped everything between Barns and I.

Bits and pieces of the night before scattered my memories. I remembered Van carrying me through the street when I was too drunk and too tired to find my footing. I remembered Bondy's laugh as we all tried to sneak into the house without waking Steve. Then there were the memories of Van helping me to his bed, hands lingering on my skin as I changed in front of him into his shirt. His mouth found mine hungrily, but he'd stopped himself, pausing before he let his guard down too long.

"Not like this." He whispered in my ear before kissing me softly and tucking me into his bed. He didn't lay down, but instead grabbed his notebook and left me to the peacefulness of his room. I fell asleep shortly after he left.

I rolled to my other side and frowned to see that his side of the bed was still empty. I wondered if he'd slept in here at all, or if he didn't trust himself enough to be beside me, to be that close to me. We had loads to talk about and as much as my thoughts ripped me to shreds, he deserved to know the ugliest parts of myself. He deserved to know it all. And maybe it'd make sense to him why I stayed as long as I did.

Maybe it'd make sense to me, too.

I'd spent the last five weeks going through pretty intense therapy sessions that probably did more harm than good at first. Eventually, those sessions became as addicting to me as the way it felt to be with Barns. I needed them. I craved them. Until we broke down the barriers as to why I am the way I am, I was going two to three times a week. Now they were weekly to bi-weekly sessions where I'd tell my therapist who I was going to be, who I'd decided to grow into. I'd learned a lot about myself in a short time, and more about how I needed to be, going forward. The girl I was could not complete with the girl I was becoming. I wrote a new version of myself. I needed to start over, but I needed to forgive myself first. Starting over without forgiveness wasn't going to get me anywhere.

I sat up and waited for the spinning to stop before reaching for the bottle of water next to the bed. I unscrewed the cap and tossed it back, ignoring the temperature of it. I hated water that wasn't cold. Lukewarm water rolled my stomach into knots and that was something I couldn't afford at the moment. But I was too thirsty to care, too parched to pay attention to the temperature. I stood up and let my balance sort itself out. My bag was on the floor and I rummaged through it and pulled out a pair of jeans. I tucked Van's shirt into them, not ready to part with the way it felt to have his clothes on yet. I pulled my hair into a low, loose bun and exited the room.

The hallway was dark and the doors along it were all closed. I couldn't imagine that anyone was up yet. I knew these boys enough by now, to know that they liked to sleep off a night out, well, all but one of them. The only door that was open was the bathroom, so I slipped inside and splashed some water on my face. I found a half used tube of toothpaste and brushed my teeth with my finger, just enough to get rid of last night's drinks. My stomach growled at the memory.