Only With You (Knights #2)

24

LANDON

“I messed up.”

Reid’s black eyebrows tweak up at my admittance, but nonetheless, he looks pleased. Probably because after a few weeks, I willingly and openly decided to speak first and not the other way around.

“You’re regretting something?” he asks, his face full of awareness at my admission.

I brought it up in my last session that I held regret once, but aside from that, I never feel guilty. It’s a pointless feeling and inconsequential to hold onto something that has already happened. And I’m very committed to what I say. Once I say it, I never take it back.

Except for Friday. I regret what I said to her before her date and what I couldn’t say, because there was more that I wanted to get off my chest, but I couldn’t find the words.

Not that I’ve ever been good at saying the right thing. I’ve never been good with giving comforting words or being that person that brings someone solace. That’s why in times of distress, no one comes to me.

I do know how to give the honest truth. That’s something I one-hundred percent excel at.

“Do you want to elaborate on what you’re regretting?”

Leaning forward, I support my elbows on my knees and look away from his curious gaze and peer at the sliver of light that peaks through the blinds and pours onto the floor.

The longer I stare in silence, the more I get immersed with the thought of Julianna, because the light reminds me of her.

I don’t know how, but she’s slowly slipped out of the box I had caged her in inside my mind. Now, she’s taking over, like a beacon, lighting up my life and fucking it up.

I try to gain control of my thoughts because I’m doing it again, hyperfixating. But it’s too late. They’re spread so far out and thin, I can barely reach for them.

Brushing my fingers along my chain, I recline back, and meet his stare. “There’s nothing to say. I messed up and I regret it, but it’s done. I’m through with the conversation. I’m ready to move on.”

“Okay, that’s fine. We can move on.” He says in that soft, patient voice of his.

I shift in my seat as a heavy weight inserts itself between my rib cage and heart.

The overwhelming weight takes me back to the day my mother died, but it’s not pain I feel this time, but something else.

Breathing out a laboured breath, I grab my chain and almost jerk it off, feeling extremely agitated. “She doesn’t understand.”

“What is it that she doesn’t understand?” Reid lays his notepad and pen on the table.

I hesitate, but this is all confidential and no one will know. Unless I openly admit I want to hurt myself or someone else, Reid can’t and won’t say anything. And I don’t have any intentions of hurting myself, at least not anymore.

“I took your advice.” I chuckle. It’s dry and bitter, but he doesn’t point it out.

He never does, though. He always sits on the chair across from me, regarding me with an empathetic but understanding expression. There’s no judgement or intrusion in the way he looks at me. Only patience, always patience.

Like Julianna, before I messed it all up.

“I decided to open up to her. I wasn’t going to, but I took your advice, Reid, and you know what, it didn’t work. I opened my mouth and fucked it all up like I always do.”

I drop my head back, not wanting to look at him anymore. I’m close to tipping over the edge and I really don’t want to get arrested for assault.

I swear I’m not typically a violent person, but he’d make the exception.

“Landon.”

“What?” I hiss.

“You did it.”

The glee in his voice has me lifting my head and frowning. “Did what?”

“You opened up. I can’t imagine it was easy, but you did and I’m proud of you.”

What kind of bullshit is this?

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I hold back the urge to punch him. “Didn’t you hear the part where I told you I fucked up? I opened up and it ended up backfiring on me. This is why I don’t do these kinds of things.”

I’m bad at words. I’m bad at feelings. I’m bad at being a people person. My father and mother are proof of that. Neither one wanted me. My father walked away and my mother drank herself to death.

How can anyone else want me when the people who are supposed to love me unconditionally didn’t?

He nods and a ridiculous smile stretches across his face. “I understand your frustration, but I also understand you meant no harm. Or you wouldn’t acknowledge that you made a mistake and feel remorse.”

I stay silent, mulling over his words.

“Now, do you want to explain what you meant by, ‘she doesn’t understand?’ ”

Flashbacks of that night plague my head, and guilt consumes me deeper than it did Friday. But the regret merely lasts a second before it’s replaced with shame and self-loathing.

“She said she’s jealous of me. She wishes she could be as smart as I am because I can remember everything. She said it’d make her life easier.” I scoff and stare into the distance until my vision blurs and all I see is the recurring image that haunts me. That memory has been a constant in my life and reminds me of what a failure I am.

“I can still smell it.” I grimace at the caustic, acrid scent that clogs my nostrils and close my eyes at the wave of dizziness that comes with the memory. I shudder and goosebumps that feel like pinpricks spread across my body. “I can still hear her desperately gasping for air as I rolled her to her side. The tears streaking down the side of her face, clinging to her matted hair. Her eyes gaping with panic and then rolling back. I…I tried. I did the best that I could. I swear…I swear I tried.”

“Landon.”

My eyes pry open at the caution in his voice, and when our gazes lock, I hate the emotions on his face.

“My mother choked on her vomit and I watched it happen.” I sink back and laugh to myself. “I watched her die, and now, I get to relive that memory until the day that I die in painstaking detail. Isn’t that something? But it’s fine.” I shrug, swallowing past the thick emotions gripping my throat like a noose. “I guess my childhood could’ve been worse.”

“No.” This time his empathetic mask he so craftily wears slips off his face. “That isn’t a healthy way to cope. Landon, you have the right to feel?—”

“Feel what? Sad? To get in touch with my emotions and remind myself I’m human, and it’s okay to feel the way I do? There’s nothing to feel. It happened. I can’t go back and change time. I’ve accepted it, and I’m done with this conversation.”

Reid blinks with confliction, lips pinched together like he wants to say more. I’m sure I know what he’s thinking. Detached, numb, and I’m sure he’d throw manipulative, with antisocial tendencies in there. At least my previous therapist had. John thought getting a family therapist would strengthen our relationship. The audacity of that man.

Thankfully, he doesn’t prod and picks up his notepad. He scrawls something on it, and then taps his pen, sporting his professional smile.

“I want you to do something this week for me.”

“Okay?”

“I want you to engage in something that makes you feel your best. It doesn’t matter what it is as long as it’s not putting you or anyone else in harm.” He gives me a pointed look and resumes. “And I want to hear about it in our next session. You might also consider making amends. You just never know how things will turn out.”

Engaging in something that makes me feel my best and making amends? This week is going to be interesting or it’ll just go to shit. I assume the latter.

And as if he can read my thoughts he says, “Please don’t assume the worst. I know it’s easy to get lost in your head, and accept the bad. Your brain is sending these triggers, preparing for disappointment, because it’s something it feels it needs to do, because it’s always had to do it. Because it’s something you’re accustomed to, but remember you’re in control of you . You have the right to hope, and don’t feel guilty because you think you’re going to disappoint yourself. Rejection is just redirection. And sometimes we need it to put us back on the right path.”

“Hmmm.” Jayden holds a black cauldron mug in one hand and then in the other. He inspects it from different angles, then pretends to drink from it. “Okay, it’s decided, this is coming home with me.”

“I’m getting this one.” Malik holds a black mug with the Scream face on it.

And Saint holds two, one that looks like an apple with a melted green skull on it and the other looks like Jason the serial killer with a machete for a handle. “We’re so cute. Look at us team bonding. Buying mugs and shit. We should do this again.”

This will certainly not happen again.

I was supposed to come alone, but the guys decided to come when they overheard Jagger and me talking. Now they’re here, browsing through the multitude of mugs on the shelves that take up one side of an entire aisle.

I pay them no attention and glance over at Jagger, who hasn’t touched one. Matter of fact, he’s been oddly quiet today.

“You all right, mate?”

“Hmm? Sorry, what?” He blinks.

I know he’s stressed about the upcoming season.

We have our first game in a week and the onslaught of unsolicited opinions has already started.

Now that TJ’s gone, Jagger’s taken the role of being the captain, and with that came a lot of unprompted judgement. TJ wasn’t safe from it last year, and Jagger certainly isn’t going to be either, but unlike TJ, who could brush it off easily, Jag isn’t like that.

He likes to pretend, but he does a shit job at it.

“Are you all right?”

He flashes me a crooked grin and picks up a random mug. “Yeah, I’m good. Just tired.”

I know that’s bullshit, but I don’t want to press for more here. Not in front of the guys. I let it go for now and drag my attention back to the array of mugs.

It’s been six days since my session with Reid and six days of Julianna ignoring me.

It was fine at first, because I’ve experienced her silence before, but after the first day, it bothered me a lot.

She doesn’t look at me when I’m tutoring her. Doesn’t acknowledge me when we run into each other on campus. For fuck’s sake, she doesn’t even argue with me. How are we supposed to get along if we don’t argue?

She hasn’t said anything about the flowers, but my best bet is that she hated them and threw them away. I haven’t seen them around the apartment, and Gabby and Polly didn’t bring it up. Knowing them, they would have already.

And she never followed me back on Instagram.

None of this should bother me, but it really does. So I’m here at the store, perusing through each mug, trying to find the best one to apologise for my shit attitude.

I’ve been thinking a lot about what Reid said, but I’m not sure I agree with everything. Sure, I need to work on being a tactful communicator and express myself without feeling overwhelmed. But the disappointment part, I don’t know. I rather expect the worst than make myself believe there’s hope because that way, I don’t hurt myself when it all goes to shit. Because in my experience, everything always does.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come out with us tonight?” Jagger asks, skimming over the seasonal mugs that take up most of the aisle.

I shake my head, picking up a mug that looks like a mummy. They do have a few Christmas ones, but Halloween will be here in a few days, and I’m sure once it passes, they’ll get rid of the fall ones.

“Oh, come on, Landon. You need to come out with us. You’ll have fun,” Malik coaxes.

“I’m banned from The Haunted Hills.”

Freshman year, we all went out to The Haunted Hills haunted house and maze. Before we went, I told them I didn’t do well in those places, but still, they insisted I go. A few minutes in, I punched one of the guys unconscious that was part of the attraction and he had to be sent to the hospital. Needless to say, the owner didn’t take it lightly and banned me.

I didn’t mean to, but I don’t take surprises well.

Malik gapes, staring at me shell-shocked. “You’re banned? You guys didn’t tell me that.”

Jagger and Jayden explain while I continue to browse.

“But I didn’t mean to come to The Haunted Hills. I meant, come with us to the party. There will be a shitload of girls. The volleyball team, track team, swim team, fuck, the gymnasts are going to be there. And you know how flexible they are.” Malik smiles slyly.

“I’m already going out with you guys on Halloween. And I’m not interested in any of those girls,” I deadpan.

Saint groans, but then beams. “Is there a girl you’re interested in? I can get her to come easily. Or what’s your type? I can help you find her tonight.”

“Any girl with big tits.” Jagger doesn’t miss a beat.

“Oh, that’s easy. I got you.” Saint nods to himself.

I appreciate them any size, but I’m a fucking goner for girls with big breasts. Particularly the pair that belong to a certain blonde with electric, sapphire eyes.

“I don’t need your help, and I’m not going out with you all. I’ve got plans.”

Gabby slipped up, and told me Julianna’s not going with them tonight because she’s working tomorrow. I don’t know if she’ll want to talk to me, let alone allow me in, but I guess I’ll find out in a few.

Afterward, I’ve planned to go to the library’s studio and record another song. I’ve also been working on an excerpt that I’d like to finish.

“Oh, with?” They all stare curiously.

I ignore them because they’ll make something out of nothing. As much as I trust Jagger, he’ll ask questions, and they’re something I’m not ready to answer.

Not out loud, at least. I’ve been musing over them this past week, obsessively fixating over them… over her .

It’s wrong because I find myself thinking of her at random times, hearing her voice at any time, seeing her face when I’m in the shower, wondering if she’s bought the hot chocolate from the café in the university. They’ve recently brought it back because it’s in season.

Jag elbows me, interrupting my thoughts. “I need a huge favor, and as my best friend, you’re not allowed to say no.”

Here we go. Anytime he needs something and knows I’m going to say no, he says this bullshit. He doesn’t give me a second to reply because he’s talking again.

“Semi is in December and I’m going with Grace and I just thought?—”

“No. You know I’m not?—”

“You’re going to semi?” Saint interjects, smiling hopefully at us.

“No, I’m?—”

“Yes, he is.”

“I’m not. You know I don’t like that shit. I don’t know why you’d assume I’d want to go.”

“But you hang out with Julianna. What difference does it make?” Jaggers argues.

“I’m tutoring her.”

“Same difference. If you can tolerate being with her for the rest of the semester, then you can tolerate being with one girl for one night.”

The guys nod in agreement, but keep quiet and continue looking at the mugs, though really, they’re listening to our conversation.

“I’m getting paid to tolerate her.”

I wish I could still call it that. She’s not too bad to be around.

Knowing I won’t let up, he pushes me away from the guys until we’re far from earshot.

“We’re single with literally no obligations besides basketball and school. We’re supposed to be making the best of this last year together. And you did say you’d spend more time with me and make an effort.”

Right, I did say that.

“Fine, I’ll go, but no dancing, pictures, or afterparty.”

Jagger flashes me a lopsided grin. “Two dances, one picture, and no afterparty.”

I roll my eyes. “You pitiful piece of shit.”

“You love me,” he singsongs.

The things I do for this friendship. “Who’s the girl?”

He wouldn’t be making me do this if there wasn’t a girl. There’s always a girl.

“Sienna Forbes and you can’t take it back.” He says it all too fast, I almost don’t catch it.

“Jagger Arnold Spears.” I seethe. “You fucking?—”

He steps back, knowing I’m going to punch him. “If I had started with that, you wouldn’t have agreed. And please don’t ever use my middle name again. You know how much I hate it, Archibald .”

I roll my eyes at the emphasis of my middle name.

“She’s just”—I try to find the right word, but so many come to mind, I don’t know which one to pick—“too much.”

He winces, knowing I’m right. “Well…she’s…she’s not that bad…and she’s pretty and smart…”

Sienna Forbes is attractive and smart. I’ve been a TA in some of her classes to testify, but that’s all the good I can say about her.

She’s attempted a few times to sneak into my room, follows me when we’re in the same place and thinks I don’t notice. Once, she started a rumor that we fucked, but I shut that down real quick. She always tries to get photos with me even though I tell her no. And now that I have Instagram, she has nonstop messaged me and sent me pictures I didn’t ask for.

“Just one night.” He goads, clasping his hands together. “If she gets weird, we’ll leave.”

Begrudgingly, I decide against my better judgement and for the sake of our friendship, I agree. “Fine, but as soon as she gets weird, I’m leaving with or without you.”

“Deal.”