s.t.a.y. | ethma

1

A/N: song of the chapter (put on repeat): Falling by Harry Styles

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Ethan
September

There were two seats left when I got to class this morning, and coincidentally the only other person who was late to class was Emma.

I ran my fingers through my hair as I sat down, taking a deep breath before preparing my school supplies for this class. Psychology.

Emma came into class about three minutes after me, rolling her eyes as she walked to the only seat left which was five feet away from mine.

I started to wonder if us both being late was from the effects of senioritis, or two broken hearts.

I knew she wasn't happy. Maybe she was even doing worse since we broke up, but we were both putting on brave faces.

So, I smirked at her like she was a piece of meat before I turned back to listen to the lecture. My face on the outside is the exact opposite of what's going on in my mind.

I miss her, but she broke my heart. She doesn't need to know how I really feel.

Today is Monday, which means no football practice.

So, after a long day, I went down to my basement and into the home gym Grayson and I set up over the summer.

I needed something to clear my mind without Emma, so I started working out all the time. Running, lifting weights, manual workouts.

Lots of protein shakes.

I turned the music up loud, and went to work, starting with cardio, then some muscle workouts, then ending with cardio.

I looked at the clock, and it was three hours later.

I wiped the sweat from my forehead and my chest with a towel before grabbing my phone to see if anyone texted me.

A few different girls texted me, but I wasn't feeling up for any of them tonight, so I went upstairs to see if dinner was almost ready.

We were having mostaccioli, so I got myself a bowl of it before heading up to my room. I told my mom I had extra homework to finish.

I didn't, but I wasn't feeling up for the usual 'how was your day today, boys?' type of questions at the dinner table. I didn't feel like talking to anybody at the moment. Not even Gray.

One thing that's happened since Emma and I broke up, is that she a). Kicked me off of her private snap. I know because Grayson's still on it, and he talks about it sometimes. And b.) she turned off her location on Snapchat. She at least kicked me off of it.

I get it. But I hate that I don't know what she's up to, or if she's safe.

And it makes me sick to my stomach that someone else—her little boyfriend who's just as bad as those rich Silver Oak boys, except he's from a town an hour away that's closer to North Carolina—could be laying in her bed right now. Or taking her home to his house.

Andrew's trial is a few weeks from now, and since I was technically a witness, I have to testify. Grayson does too.

I know I've changed for the worse, but this is something I need to do for Emma. Even with everything going on—the pain and hurt and the betrayal I feel—, there still isn't anything I wouldn't do for Emma. Maybe I'm not gonna tell her that, but it's true.

My mom and Emma's mom took over the Justice for Emma campaign. It actually got national attention across America.

It also led Emma to become quite well-known on social media. She has eleven thousand followers on Instagram now. She uses her platform in a good way, raising awareness for sexual assault and mental health. I'm proud of her, but I know she's still struggling on the inside.

I wish she's let me be there to help.

-

Friday was pretty normal. Another football game. Another win. Another big party.

Another day that I see Emma's snap story and realize she wasn't even at our game. She was at his. And she was at a party an hour away with him.

I won't say his name. I refuse.

Another night finding a random girl that I can bury myself in between her legs. Another girl who's name I can forget by tomorrow.

I gave Emma my heart last year, and she broke it. Out of all the people in the world, if Emma couldn't keep my heart safe, no one could.

So, I stopped letting my heart control my life, and I let my sex drive control it instead.

But, at the end of the day when I go home alone, my bed is still empty, and I still think of the fact that my name is etched into her headboard. It was supposed to be us.

I'm supposed to be in her bed.

She was supposed to still be mine. But now she's his. It's so unfair.

Another night of me moping as I showered and got ready for sleep. It was 3 am. I only turned on the bathroom light by the sink, not bothering to turn on the one by the shower. There was just enough light to see inside the shower, but little enough to make the bathroom dim. I liked it that way. Dark.

I just don't understand anything anymore. I was so good to Emma. She was good to me while we lasted. How could she not see that I would do anything to help her get better? I could've handled it. She couldn't see that.

I spend so much time trying to not care that at the end of the day when I'm all alone it's all I can think about.

So, as I climb into bed I try my best to slip into the closest state to oblivion that I can get. If I'm not awake, I don't have to think about Emma and him being together right now.

I'm not going to say his name. Just the thought of her dating someone who isn't me makes me sick.

She used to be mine. She still could've been.

I still can't grasp how it all went wrong. What she sees in him and not me.

Why I wasn't good enough. Why she's not laying next to me right now.

Why my heart is shattered like this. It feels like one of those ten thousand piece puzzles that you just can't bring yourself to solve. It's too complicated.

Finally I fell asleep, blocking out the world and my troubles and hoping that she won't end up in my dreams tonight.