Page 44 of Broken Track
I don’t speak at first. My throat’s tight, and the ground beneath me feels like it’s tilting. I swallow hard, trying to steady my breathing.
"Xavier?" My voice cracks, and I hate it. I fucking hate it.
There’s a long pause on the other end. I can hear him breathing. I can almost hear him thinking, like he’s weighing whether or not to hang up. I brace myself for that. But instead, he sighs, and I swear I can feel it all the way through the phone.
"Where are you?"
I blink, surprise hitting me harder than the alcohol in my veins. "I’m... I’m fine."
"You don’t sound fine," he says, quiet but firm. "Where are you, B?"
Tears well in my eyes when he calls me B, but I push them back. I can’t stop a small laugh from escaping. It’s bitter and rough. "Does it really matter?"
"I’m not doing this with you," he says, his voice low, as if forcing the words through clenched teeth. "Where are you?"
"I’m at Ashley’s friend's house, but I’m leaving. Just... give me a second." The room spins around me. "I just... I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, X."
There’s a beat of silence. His response feels like it’s been held back too long. "Okay. Stay on the phone until you get home. Got it?"
I close my eyes, my thumb hovering over the screen. I don’t argue. I don’t have the energy. I don’t even know why I want him here. Why do I need him to be the one to listen? But somehow, the thought of him hanging up before I’m safe feels like it’ll break something inside me that’s already hanging by a thread.
"I’m not going to be good company," I warn, the words coming out slurred as I try to stand. "I’m a mess."
"I don’t care," he replies, and I can hear the edge in his voice, like he’s trying to hide something. "Just get home."
The sounds of the party fade in the background as I step out into the night, the cool air hitting my skin like a slap. My mind is hazy, and all I can think about is how much I hate that this is the only choice I have.
I can hear him pacing on the other end. I wish I could see him right now, how he’s holding himself back. He was always so damn good at it. Always so calm, so controlled. I can feel the distance between us like it’s a damn chasm, but it’s a distance we never quite closed, not even when we were in the same room.
"How’s school?" he asks after a moment, like we’re having some casual conversation.
The words come out before I can stop them. "You know, I don’t even care about it anymore."
"Don’t say that." His voice sharpens, and I’m taken aback by how quickly it changes. "You always cared. Don’t throw it away over some stupid shit."
I laugh again, but it’s hollow. "Yeah, well, people throw things away. It happens."
There’s a long pause. I wonder whether he regrets answering. Or maybe he regrets picking up the phone in the first place.
"You’re not alone, Izzy," he says, softer now, quieter. "You’re not alone in this."
I want to tell him he’s wrong. I want to tell him I’ve never felt more alone in my life. But the words get stuck.
"I’ll be fine," I finally say, my voice barely above a whisper. "I always am."
I’m almost back to the dorm. Just a few more blocks. Then I can get inside, shut the door, and pretend everything’s okay again. Maybe I’ll even fool myself.
"You’re almost there?" he asks, the tension back in his voice.
"Yeah. Just..." I hesitate. "Thanks for listening, Xavier. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t answered."
There’s a shift in the air. A space between the words, between the breaths we both take. It’s quiet for a long moment, the sound of my footsteps and his shallow breathing.
"Get inside, okay?" he says, almost too softly. "I’ll be here."
And just like that, I hang up, slipping my phone back into my pocket before I can overthink it.
I make it to my door and step inside. The silence of my empty dorm wraps around me like a cold blanket, but I don't feel the relief I expected. There’s still too much left unsaid.
