I’m crying. It can’t be helped, and if he ever asks, I’ll chalk it up to the soul-ripping orgasm that rushes through me when Austin reaches between us to rub circles into my clit with his thumb.
At another point in time, having sex in the radio booth was probably a bucket list item of his. It would have been a sexy dare between us. He would have bent me over and driven into me as he announced the next song to the airwaves. We would have laughed like naughty fools remembering it.
But alas, timing has never been in our favor. Because I’ll look back on this, knowing it marked the death of us. And my heart will crumble to pieces every time.
33
Austin
My phone pings with a message, and I delete it before even opening it.
I’ve been doing that a lot lately. You would, too, if dozens of family members were reaching out to tell you how much of a disappointment you are.
That’s putting it nicely, using the word disappointment. Because the things I’ve been reading from my family members range from rude to downright horrible. One of my uncles told me I was a, and I quote, “fucking bastard little bitch who had a silver spoon shoved up his ass and was now shitting all over us.”
So, that’s what I’m dealing with these days. The Van Hewitt clan is in crisis mode, and they’re taking all of their problems out on me. Not that they are real problems, or that they even realize that in the grand scheme of things, one person deciding to work in another city won’t harm them in the slightest.
But it’s a pride thing. A tradition thing. And my family is nothing if not traditionalist. If we were the royal family, I would have been fed to the press by now and ex-communicated.
In reality, my family has not lost a cent. They’ll continue to rule Webton, to make money hand over fist, and move on in the way they always have. Soon, I and this scandal will be a footnote in their lives, and I’ll only get the occasional bullying message or fucked-up outreach.
Though none of it will be from my mother or father. They’ve been radio, no pun intended, silent since he came here and found out what job I was planning to take. I fully expect never to hear from them again, and it’s a heartbreaking sentence I know I’ll have to come to terms with. Even if I hate them, they’re still my parents. That kind of fracture in your life isn’t one that’s easily overcome.
The only thing I can do to stem the bleeding, to stop the ugly pain swamping my veins, is think about what I’m gaining.
My independence.
A career that I’m so passionate about, it almost makes everything better.
Moving to a city I’ve long dreamed of living in.
Working my ass off to prove myself and become one of the legends in radio, like guys I’ve looked up to my whole life.
But it’s not just my family shit I’m dealing with. If it was just that, maybe I could get over it quickly. Maybe I could be okay with the fact that no one will be there to see me walk at graduation. My parents had the maliciousness to send one of my cousin’s to do their bidding, to tell me that they would not attend.
If it were only that, I’d be sad but on the mend. It’s this shit with Taya that makes everything so much harder to swallow.
When I took Taya into the radio booth the other night, I had no intention of having sex with her there. Sure, it’s been a fantasy of mine, but I really wanted to show her where I thrive. What the environment I’m most passionate about is really like.
The sex just kind of happened. I put that song on, and the moment got to my head, and I couldn’t stop.
I just didn’t expect that the sex would be that heavy. Instead of feeling illicit, it felt like an ending. A swan song to this relationship we never could seem to hold on to from the beginning.
Every step of the way, it seems like I zig and Taya zags. I want to take a step forward, and something throws a wrench in our plans. We’re two people so firmly in our heads, with our own doubts, that we haven’t been able to take down those walls. No matter how hard we’ve tried, we’re still holding back. It’s not just my fault; it’s not just hers.
She could beg me to stay with her. I could beg her to do the long-distance thing. But would that make either of us happy, at the end of the day? We can’t seem to get on the same page, not for lack of trying, and it’s breaking our hearts more. I see it in her eyes every day, and I know that inside I’m crumbling.
My world is in flux; nothing seems solid or steady at the moment. I don’t want to leave her, and yet I know that if we can’t make it work consistently while I’m at Talcott, we have no hope when I move three hours away.
She’ll be busy with school, and I’ll have virtually no time to dedicate to a relationship.
It’s the mature thing to do, ending it.
So why does it feel like I’m walking away from the person I’m supposed to share my life with?
34
Taya
“You asshole!”
A door slams somewhere upstairs, and I shake my head, trying to bury it in my textbook and ignore the fight. I should be used to it by now, with those two, but Bevan and Callum getting into a knock-down, drag-out the week of finals is pretty much standard. With that much pressure, they’re always bound to implode.
I wish they’d take their blowout elsewhere. Some of us are trying to study.
Or stop ourselves from having an emotional breakdown.
Since the night in the radio booth, Austin has been so distant. Graduation is just a week away, and we haven’t talked about any of it. Not whether we’re staying together, breaking up, giving this a shot. None of it.
I’m trying to ignore it, to just keep moving, because then the emotions can’t touch me. None of this heartbreak can be real if I don’t acknowledge it. Deep down, I’m aware of what a load of bullshit that is, but I can’t take another person not choosing me.
I still haven’t spoken to my family since my birthday, and I’ve been avoiding their calls. My mom sent a cookie basket, and Dad followed that up with tickets to a concert to see my favorite band in October. The gifts are nice, if not forced and late, and just an excuse to have me call them and make up.
Which I’m not falling for. I’ve bent too many times, have forgiven when it’s my heart and feelings that are bruised. They need to make amends for this one, and a cookie basket is not going to do it. Our issues run too deep for that.
With everything going on inside my head and heart, the last thing I can do is deal with other people’s issues. But apparently, the universe still doesn’t give a shit about me, because Callum walks into the kitchen shaking his head, blowing breaths out of his mouth like he might shoot fire instead.
“Jesus Fucking Christ.”
I look up, raise my eyebrow, and he rolls his eyes back at me.
Pushing the chair across from me out with my foot, I motion to it. “Sit down.”
I’m done with this shit. Most friends wouldn’t get involved, but I’m not most friends. I’ve also, recently, been accused of not speaking my mind. That ends here. I’m not just friends with Bevan. I’ve known Callum almost as long. And I’m not going to sit idly by any longer and watch this go down. She can hate me for this, blame me for their relationship being dead and over, but eventually, she’ll be happier. I can’t watch this go on any longer.