Chapter 72 Chapter Sixty-Eight
Alex’s point of view
Claire stood beside me one afternoon while Demi and Chris sat across the quad, knees brushing, heads bent close.
"You're doing it again," she said quietly.
I didn't respond.
"Alex."
I turned to her slowly.
Her face was tired. Not angry, just worn down, like she'd been carrying something heavy for too long without setting it down.
"You don't look at me like that," she said.
My throat tightened. "Like what?"
"Like you're afraid of losing me."
The words landed with devastating accuracy.
"I-" I started, then stopped.
Silence stretched between us.
She nodded slowly, like she'd already known the answer. "I think you should figure out what you're actually running from."
"I'm not running from anything Claire," I said automatically.
She smiled sadly. "You are, You just don't know where."
She walked away before I could say anything else.
“I’m not running from anything” I mumbled as I rubbed my face harshly with my palms trying to divert my mind from the conversation we just had.
.
.
That night, my mom knocked on my door.
She didn't ask permission, she just came in and sat on the edge of my bed like she used to when I was younger and sick or scared.
"Alex my love are you okay?" she asked softly making my heart ache at the sound of her voice.
"I'm fine," I replied, reflexive.
She shook her head. "No, you're not. And you don't have to tell me why. But I need you to know that we’re here for you. Me, your dad, your sisters and your brother, we’re here for you"
I stared at the floor, jaw tight.
"You barely talk anymore and it’s very concerning Alex, this is not you," she continued. "You barely eat now and you’re not looking too well. You look like you're carrying something too big for you."
I swallowed hard.
She placed her hand over mine. "Whatever it is, you don't have to suffer alone."
I wanted to tell her.
I wanted to say I think i might have feelings for my best friend and I was too scared to choose him and now watching him with someone else is tearing me apart from the inside.
Instead, I said nothing.
She squeezed my hand once and left.
I lay back on my bed afterward, staring at the ceiling, heart pounding.
The truth was getting harder to outrun.
.
The next day, I saw something that finally broke me.
Demi was upset.
I noticed immediately, the tension in his shoulders, the way he stared at his phone without really seeing it.
Chris noticed too.
He moved closer.
Touched Demi's wrist gently.
Said something low and quiet that made Demi's expression soften, just a little.
Chris pulled him into a hug.
Not rushed. Not awkward.
Natural.
Demi melted into it.
I turned away sharply, chest constricting like I'd been punched.
That should've been my place.
The thought terrified me.
Because it meant I knew exactly what this was now, and I'd been lying to myself all along.
That night, I sat on the floor of my room with my back against the bed, knees pulled to my chest, lights off.
I pressed my fist against my mouth and cried again.
For Demi.
"I don't understand," I whispered hoarsely. "Why does it hurt this much?"
My heart felt like it was splitting open, grief and longing tangled together until I couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.
I thought of Demi's laugh.
His patience.
The way he used to look at me like I was worth the risk.
Watching him choose someone else, even just emotionally, I felt that loss in every breath.
I stayed there on the floor long after the tears stopped, hollow and aching, knowing one thing with painful clarity.
Whatever was happening between Demi and Chris wasn't the real problem.
The problem was that I'd realized what my heart wanted,
only after I'd convinced myself I didn't deserve it.
And I didn't know how to live with that.