Love to Hate You

Chapter Nine

My head is throbbing and my eyes seem to be sealed shut, but I eventually come to. I feel a bit disoriented, dizzy, and sick, and opening my eyes is a chore in itself. My arm twitches, and then my feet, and then my torso is twisting around, feeling oddly comfortable against what I thought was supposed to be a stage. I think I’ve only been out for a couple of minutes, but when my eyes finally snap open I see that I've been out for a long time. I’m home in bed, not under my covers but sprawled out on top of them. It’s dark and shadowy in my room and when I tilt my head I see that it’s pitch black outside my window.

Great, I think, not only did I pass out on stage, but they had to carry me home.

That’s when I jump out of bed and scramble clumsily to the door despite my whole body feeling like Jell-O and my spinning head. Poking my head out of my bedroom, I stare down the hallway, noticing that the lights are on and that there’s conversation floating up from the bottom of the staircase. My eyes widen and I glance back in my room at my nightstand, looking for the time on the alarm clock. It’s 9:42 P.M.

My eyebrows twitch in confusion and I jerk my head back out of my bedroom to peer down the hallway, again. I hear some clanking of dishes and my scowl deepens even more. The only reason my parents would still be up entertaining is if they’re waiting for something. I think that something is me.

I hesitantly step out of my room and pad to the edge of the stairs, turning my ear a bit to hear any conversation I can manage.

“Well, I think she’s going to sleep through the night. You boys should probably get going,” I hear my dad’s deep voice say pleasantly and there’s another clattering of dishes along with some mutters of agreement.

“Tell us if she’s okay,” Justin’s familiar voice wafts up the steps, tickling my ears, “she hit her head pretty good—hope she didn’t concuss herself,” he laughs.

“With her luck?” Austin counters, “She’s probably dead up there.” I scoff from my spot on the edge of the stairs, sniffing indignantly. I’m alive and functioning, thank you very much!

“Yes, we’ll have her call you all. I’m sure she’s fine,” my mother tells them airily, maybe even with a hint of tiredness. “If she hasn’t woken up yet, then I’m sure she’s just exhausted and sleeping.”

I can’t stand it anymore. I skip down the stairs, rounding the corner into the kitchen with a light whoosh of air from swinging so fast. All of their faces, Mom’s, Dad’s, Justin’s, Alex’s, Austin’s, and Kris’s turn to me with comical amount of shock, not because of the fact that I’m awake, but because I’m quite energetic for just humiliating myself in front of half my high school by passing out on stage.

“I’m alive,” I say simply, and run fingers through my hair self-consciously now that I realize I probably look like a mess and I’m in a room full of people.

“Hey you,” Justin smiles widely and strides across the room to gather me in a hug. I try not to breathe him in too much, remembering why I collapsed in the first place. He squeezes me tightly, ducking his head so that his lips brush my ear and whispers, “Are you okay? Everyone started freaking out when you fainted.”

“I’m fine, just a little overwhelmed,” I reply quietly.

He pulls away, giving me a look of steady confusion. “Tell me later?” he offers.

I want to shake my head no because I can’t tell him that I feel this disgustingly cheesy, magnetic pull to him, but am developing something for someone else. How can I tell him that I don’t trust him and that I hate him but love him and want him at the same time? How do I explain that we’re all out to get him because he’s egotistical and has desperation for fame wafting off of him like a cheap perfume? I can’t tell him anything because it won’t be the truth and I feel sick with this mixture of guilt and pleasure for lying to him.