So anyway, one day I saw him walking and I knocked him in the shoulder just to be a dick. He got angry and called me a dick, so I beat the shit out of him. His nose was broken, and his mum couldn’t afford to even have him see a doctor. I still kept fucking with him afterward. A few months later his mum died, and he went into a foster home, a rich one, lucky for him, and he drove by me one day. It was my sixteenth birthday and he was in a brand-new car. I was angry at the time and wanted to find him just to break his nose again, but now that I think about it I’m happy for him.
I’ll skip the rest of my sixteenth year because all I did was drink, get high, and fight. Actually that goes for seventeen, too. I keyed a few cars, busted some windows as well. When I was eighteen is when I met James. He was cool because he didn’t give a fuck about anything, like me. We drank every day, our group. I would come home drunk every night and would puke on the floor, and my mum would have to clean it up. I would break something new almost every night . . . We had our own little gang of friends, and no one fucked with us. They knew better.
The games started, the ones I told you about, and you know what happened with Natalie. That was the worst of that, I swear. I know you are disgusted by me not caring about what happened to her. I don’t know why I didn’t care, but I didn’t. Just now, when I was driving here to this empty hotel room, I was thinking about Natalie. I still don’t feel as bad as I should, but I was thinking—what if someone did that to you? I nearly had to pull over to get sick even thinking about you being in Natalie’s place. I was wrong, so wrong for doing that to her. One of the other girls, Melissa, got attached to me as well, but nothing came of it. She was obnoxious and loud. I told everyone that she had hygiene problems, down there . . . so everyone gave her shit about it, and she never bothered me again. I got arrested once for being drunk in public, and my mum was so angry she left me at the police station all night. Then when everyone found out about the Natalie shit, she had enough. I threw a fit when my mum mentioned sending me to America. I didn’t want to leave my life back home no matter how fucked up it was—I was. But when I beat the shit out of someone in front of a crowd during a festival, Mum was done. I applied to WCU and got in, of course.
When I got here to America I fucking hated it. I hated everything. I was so upset that I had to be near my father that I rebelled even further, drinking and partying at the frat house all the time. I met Steph first. I hooked up with her at a party and she introduced me to the rest of her friends. Nate and I hit it off the best. Dan and Jace were dicks, Jace the worst. You already know about Dan’s sister, so I’ll skip that. There were a few girls that I fucked since then, but not as many as your imagination will have you think. I did sleep with Molly once after you and I kissed, but the only reason I did it was because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I couldn’t get you out of my head, Tess. I kept thinking it was you the entire time. I had hoped that would help, but it didn’t. I knew it wasn’t you. You would have been better. I kept telling myself, if I only see Tessa one more time I will realize this is just a ridiculous fascination, nothing more. Purely lust. But every time I saw you I wanted more and more. I would think of ways to annoy you just so I could hear you say my name. I wanted to know what you were thinking of in class that made you stare at your book with a frown, I wanted to smooth the crease between your brows, I wanted to know what you and Landon whispered about, I wanted to know what you were writing in that damned planner of yours. I actually almost took it from you once, that day when you dropped it and I handed it to you. You probably don’t remember, but you were wearing a purple shirt and that hideous gray skirt you used to wear almost every other day.
After that day in your dorm when I fucked up your notes and kissed you against the wall, I was in too deep to stay away. I thought about you constantly. My every thought was consumed by you. I didn’t know what it was at first—I didn’t know why I had become so obsessed with you. The first time that you stayed the night with me is when I knew, KNEW that I loved you. I knew that I would do anything for you. I know that sounds like bullshit now, after all that I’ve put you through, but it’s true. I swear it.
I found myself daydreaming—me daydreaming . . . about the life that I could have with you. I pictured you sitting on the couch with a pen between your teeth and a novel on your lap, your feet on my lap. I don’t know why, but I couldn’t get the image out of my head. It tortured me, wanting you the way that I did and knowing you would never feel the same. I threatened anyone who tried to sit in that seat next to you, threatened Landon, to make sure that I could sit there, just to be near you. I would tell myself over and over that I was only doing all of this weird shit to win the bet. I knew that I was lying to myself, I just wasn’t ready to admit it. I would do shit, like crazy shit, to fuel my obsession with you. I would mark lines in my novels that reminded me of you. Do you want to know the first one? It was, “He stepped down, trying not to look long at her, as if she were the sun, yet he saw her, like the sun, even without looking.”
I knew I loved you when I was highlighting fucking Tolstoy.
When I told you I loved you in front of everyone, I meant it—I was just too much of a prick to admit it once you dismissed me. The day that you told me you loved me was the first time I felt like there was hope, hope for me. Hope for us. I don’t know why I kept hurting you and treating you the way that I did. I won’t waste your time with an excuse, because I don’t have one. I just have all these bad instincts and habits, and I’m fighting against them for you. All I know is that you make me happy, Tess. You love me when you shouldn’t, and I need you. I have always needed you and always will. When you left me just last week it nearly killed me, I was so lost. So completely lost without you. I went on a date with someone last week. I wasn’t going to tell you, but I can’t stand to chance losing you again. I wouldn’t even call it a date, really. Nothing happened between us. I almost kissed her, but I stopped myself. I couldn’t kiss her, I couldn’t kiss anyone but you. She was boring, and nothing compared to you. No one is, no one ever will be.