Crush

Broken

Oliver

Lying on my back, I stared at the ceiling of my bedroom. The early afternoon sun shone brightly through the window, illuminating the white paint above me.

I sighed, feeling defeated.

I hadn't heard from Asher all weekend. No messages. No calls. No visits. Nothing. For two days.

The messages I'd sent him were delivered, but not read. At first, his phone rang, but now it just went straight to voicemail.

He wasn't ... talking to me. It was like he'd just disappeared. Now that the photo had gotten out, he'd bounced. Poof. Gone.

My own phone, on the other hand, was blowing up. Calls, texts, emails ... all from people in my grade at school. My friends. My teammates. Classmates.

There wasn't an hour that went by when Jenson wasn't calling or messaging me. He had turned up at the house a couple of times, but I'd asked Dad to send him on his way. I couldn't see anyone right now. The only person I wanted to see was blanking me, ignoring me.

I hadn't answered any of my calls, looked at any of the messages. I was just ... scared. Scared to be judged. Scared that people would think I was disgusting. Scared that no one would want to know me any more.

Pathetic. I was so pathetic.

It was now Sunday afternoon and I didn't know what the hell I was going to do tomorrow. What should I do? Should I skip school completely?

Tears pricked my eyes and I blinked them away. They just kept on coming. I'd been crying all weekend to the point where my eyes hurt and my head pounded. Just when I thought there weren't enough tears left in me, I'd start crying again.

Crying for what? Because I was scared? Because Asher wasn't talking to me? I just didn't know any more. It was like crying was the only thing I was good at this weekend.

A gentle knock on my bedroom door forced my eyes away from the ceiling to the open doorway, where Dad was standing, holding a plate and a bottle of water.

"Can I come in?" he asked tentatively.

I nodded.

He crossed the threshold, placed the plate and bottle on the bedside table. He'd made me a sandwich. I scrunched up my nose. I wasn't hungry.

Dad sat on the edge of the bed, reached down and ruffled my hair. I smiled. He was one of the few people allowed to touch my hair. There was another person who I liked touching my hair, but he was ignoring me right now.

Fuck.

"Feel like doing something today?" Dad asked.

I shrugged.

"You can't stay in your room forever. You have to face the outside world at some point," he chided gently.

I didn't feel like doing anything other than lying here.

I was still wearing Asher's jersey. His letterman jacket was rolled up under my pillow so that I could smell it at night. I hadn't showered today. Wait. Did I shower yesterday? I couldn't remember.

I looked at my dad. He smiled softly at me. "Come on, Ollie. Let's do something."

I continued to look at my dad. I didn't want to do anything. I just ... wanted to hear from Asher. I wanted him to tell me that he was okay, that he'd lost his phone or something. Anything.

Even if he had lost his phone, surely he would have come to the house to see me? Surely he had something to say about being publicly outed?

Dad sighed. "How about I make dinner reservations for tonight?"