In The End (On Hold)

t w e l v e

a/n:
•hi? does anyone even still read this?
•im soooo sorry for the long awaited update. it's summer and I should have free time but I really dont. my parents want me to clean the house while they're at work and take care of my brothers, who almost always make another mess
•and then i remembered that i started this book in august of last year (2015) and now it's july of 2016 ... and this is only the twelfth chapter. that's basically one chapter a month!
•honestly, if there's anyone who's still reading this book, I love you and I don't deserve to have you as a reader because you have waited and waited and waited
•really, i. love. you.
•okay, I'll hush now
•unedited

t w e l v e

January 5, 2015

It's been five days since the party. And I haven't spoken to Athena since.

What I did was wrong. It was a mistake. Things will never be the same between us. We'll always be those two friends who made out.

I got up from bed and decided to change. I had to choose my shirts wisely now. Something that hid where my neck and shoulder met.

"Mason! Breakfast!" Mom yelled from downstairs.

"Kay!" I yelled, quickly settling for a black t-shirt that basically chocked me.  I exited my room and ran down the stairs and saw that my plate was already set.

It was just me and Mom, and that sort of freaked me out because she's been trying to find out if Athena took the news of my situation well.

Thing is, I never told Athena of my situation.

"I never got to ask." She set her fork down on her plate after minutes of silence. "How was the party?" she asked.

"It was okay, actually," I said, ducking my head down so she wouldn't she the searing skin of my neck as memories of the night played in my head.

"So, you and Jackie are okay?" she asked as she resumed eating, assuming I had told Athena. When I nodded and sipped some of my orange juice, she asked, "How did she take the news?"

I placed my drink back on the table and looked at Mom. "Hm? What—what news?" I faked a confused face.

"Of your condition," she replied in a 'duh' kind of tone and then she laughed because she thought I was kidding.

I looked down at my plate and played with my food. "I never told her . . . ."

She sound of her fork slamming into my mom's plate echoed around us as her hand dropped down in shock. "What?" Her voice was surprisingly at a medium volume.

I ran my hand through my hair. "I—I just . . . couldn't." I rubbed my neck.

She took a closer look at me. "Is that a hickey?" This time, her voice took on a whole other octave.

"Ah—wh—what—"

She silenced me when she raised her hands in front her, her way of saying 'I'm not even going to get into it right now.'

"Fine," Mom said and began collecting the plates and cups and other utenciles. "Tell her on your own time, or don't tell her at all. It will be your own fault." And with that she left to go wash the dishes.

I sighed, my stomach burning with guilt. I got up from my chair and headed to my room, then proceeded to look for things to do around my room. There were books, but I'd read all of them already, and re-read. I wasn't up for a third time. My eyes landed on the ball Matt and I were tossing back and forth to each other days ago and I considered hitting it against the wall and catching it. But it wouldn't be as fun as when I had people tossing it to me. Besides, I'll most likely end up hitting myself in the face.