Dixison: Roommates

In Denial

Last Chapter

"Is Dixison real?"

A ringing sound filled my ears and my gaze slowly moved across the crowd, all eyes staring at me, my head turning until I locked eyes with Dixie. 

She stared at me, eyes wide, chest rising as she inhaled a deep breath.

"No—of course not."

Dixie's POV

All eyes were glued to me, waiting for me to confirm.

"—We're just friends," I sputtered.

A searing pain shot through my chest, my whole body on fire.

Addison was looking at me, but I couldn't move, couldn't think.

"Chavani is real!"  Charli called out, and everyone turned to look, every teenage girl at the venue screaming in happiness.

I sat there, chest burning, my hands shaking in my lap.

What was I scared of? That everything was going to come out? Or that she had meant what she said?

I stood abruptly, my chair squeaking on the white tile floor. 

I walked over to Thomas, ignoring Addison's following eyes.

"I'm going home,"  I said to him.

"Did you sell all of your signed posters?"  he asked.

Typical Thomas. Always worried about the business income.

"Yeah,"  I replied, grabbing my stuff.

"Aight. See you later."

Back at the Hype House

I had called an Uber to pick me up from the mall.

The entire ride home, I thought of Addison and I's relationship—how happy I was, how terrible it had felt to hear her deny me—deny us.

This is what I signed up for, I thought, burying my face in my hoodie. It would've hurt just as much in the long run—to have come clean, to admit that we were more than friends.

She had called my phone twice, but I let it go to voicemail each time.

I couldn't talk to her. My chest tightened even thinking of her.

I entered our room, surveying the area where we had been so content just days before.

Collapsing onto her bed, I broke down, sobbing into the comforter.

I want to be with you. I want to kiss you—like I do in our room, like I have every day. 

I can't stand to see you upset. I would do anything for you—anything to see you smile.

Before you, I was Dixie—plain Jane, freckled face, no fucks given, hard-headed Dixie. 

With you, I'm different. I care about things. I do my best. I'm soft—tender. I'm happy.

I sat up, my eyes red and swollen.

I let out a shaky breath and walked to her closet, pulling my suitcase down from the shelf.

"Where are you going?"

I paused.

"Please don't go."