Chapter 19

"I like to see you. But then again, that doesn't mean you mean that much to me. So if I call you, don't make a fuss, don't tell your friends about the two of us. I'm not in love, no no, it's because..."

---

"Nick!"

Aiden screams from behind me and I catch his hand just as he is about to poke me in the side.

"Hey Aiden."

Aiden pouts, and Kyle chuckles as he walks up to us.

He is staring at me again, as if he cannot believe someone like me can exist in this world. I cannot believe it, too, only he sees me as too good for the world, while I see myself as too much of a screw-up.

As fucked up as the world is, it will never be as fucked up as I am.

Kyle nods to me in greeting, and I manage a small nod in return.

Aiden rolls his eyes.

"Oh, just kiss already!"

I raise an eyebrow at him, pushing down the flush that once again threatens to rise up to my cheeks.

"You're supposed to be my older brother, remember?"

Aiden's mouth forms into an 'O' as he nods and turns a glare to Kyle.

"No kissing until he's 21!"

Kyle rolls his eyes and looks at me in amusement, and I grin back.

I don't know how he does it, how he makes me feel so easily.

"But we've already kissed." Kyle teases, and Aiden looks to me in shock.

"Anyway," I divert my gaze back from Kyle to a stern Aiden, placing a piece of paper in his hands.

"Sylvia's number, so you can stop texting me out of boredom."

Aiden beams at me as he takes out his phone and keys it in.

I don't know how Sylvia will ever put up with him.

Aiden snatches my phone from my pocket, ignoring my protests as he starts pushing buttons and returns it before I can decide whether or not to punch him.

"Kyle's number, now we're even!"

"That's not fair, he has my number and I don't have his?" Kyle whines, and I quickly stomp down the fluttering in my stomach.

"It's not as if I wanted your number in the first place."

Kyle and Aiden raise an eyebrow at me, and even they can tell that I'm lying.

I roll my eyes and walk away.

They keep looking at me, as if they know something I don't, as if I am trying to hide my affection.

That's ridiculous.

I'm not in love.

---

I sit in my room, staring at the phone placed face-down in front of me.

I have no reason to call him, no reason to even talk to him. I have homework to do.

I continue to stare, waiting for the phone to buzz, to sound, anything, so I won't call him. A part of me hopes Aiden gave Kyle my number so he will call me instead, but why do I even want to talk to him?

Growing closer to him, to them, will only put me further in their grasp, trap me helplessly in their concept of love, make me trust them enough to help me rise up again until they decide to let me fall.

I don't want to call him. I'm just infatuated, and infatuation fades with distance.

I'm not in love.

My phone buzzes, the sound of its vibration muffled by the bed sheets. I stare at it warily, mentally going through a list of people who could have my number. I have not received a call in a long time, and I prefer not to, because the last call I received two months ago was from a hospital nurse who notified me of the car accident that occurred when my mom was driving to work.

It was nothing fatal, but it had sparked in me a fear I never want to relive. We had used our savings for the fees, so mom had to work overtime for the next few weeks after getting discharged. I barely saw her, even in the mornings.

Even with our financial situation, mom wouldn't ever let me pick up a job before I graduate. She says she can handle it, tells me to focus on my studies so I can get what everyone calls their 'dream job'.

I don't tell her that I have long given up on dreams, that a job will never be more than a job to me, never more than a way for me to repay everything she's done for me as a mother.

I know she doesn't want to appear weak in front of her son, and I find it pathetic. What's the point of trying to look strong, when you are clearly broken beyond repair? It only goes to show how insecure you are, that nobody will love you as you are.

I am aware, of course, that I am a hypocrite when it comes to my opinion of things like these. It's funny how a parent and her child both try to stay strong for one another, while they are both slowly crumbling.

Sleep is a word I fear, a place I go to only when I cannot handle the waking moments any longer. I may have given up on dreams, but I am still haunted by nightmares, visions of abandonment, of blood splatters, when the bangs and thumps become so loud it is unbearable.

Sometimes I get a peek of myself, all alone in a world still so deluded by the concept of love, of home, of impossibility, and I wonder if I am the only sane person in the world, or if I have truly gone insane.

I slowly pick up the phone - an old Nokia model, but I never complain. I have no interest in fancy apps, or the social media that are used as outlets for teenage emotions.

The name 'Kyle (no kissing!)' flashed across the screen and I roll my eyes, exasperated at Aiden's antics despite the butterflies in my stomach at the thought of actually talking to Kyle over the phone.

I have officially become a pathetic hormonal teenager.

I answer the call, placing the phone to my ear.

"Hello?"

"Hey, um, Nick?"

Kyle sounds uncertain of himself, and while I am somehow comforted by the sound of his voice, I find myself disliking it. It is far from his usual confidence, far from Kyle.

"What do you want?"

"I know you haven't accepted the whole mating bond thing, but Aiden may have accidentally told my parents about me finding my mate, so do you maybe want to come over to the pack house, sometime after school tomorrow?" He pauses, and I can feel his nervousness through the phone. "You don't have to come as my mate, just as a friend."

Haven't accepted.

Is it inevitable to accept it, will I not be able to escape what I am starting to feel?

I give a hum of agreement and hang up.

A part of me hopes his parents won't accept me, will deem me unworthy of someone as important as Kyle, as I truly am.

The other part wishes to finally be able to let go of my hatred and move on, to place my trust in someone so strange, yet so welcoming. Someone who won't be able to stop loving me no matter how hard he can try.

It really doesn't matter, though.

It's not as if I love him.