Pretty Boy [bxb] | ✔️

Chapter twenty: It wasn't a joke

𝙄𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙨𝙣'𝙩 𝙖 𝙟𝙤𝙠𝙚

I've been ignoring Alex ever since he woke up and I hate myself for it.

I'm not mad or annoyed at him. I just don't know what to do about him drunkenly confessing his love for me. Due to being so blindingly intoxicated, he can't remember the events of what happened last night and therefore has no recollection of the love confession. Still, if I ask him about it, I'm scared he's going to get mad at me and accuse me of lying, and then hate me again.

I'm quiet for the majority of the journey home, which I even surprised myself with as well as Cami. She demanded to know what was wrong five times, but I eventually make up a half-lie about being anxious about the flight, so she left me alone. Instead of talking to her, I slept the journey away. God knows I needed it after being up all night looking after Alex.

I don't get home until late, and as soon as I'm home, I'm rushing straight up to my room, ignoring any questions about how my trip was from my family. My mind is too clouded to feel bad or to talk to anyone. I need peace. I feel so out of my own body that I don't even have space in my mind to feel happy about being back in my own home.

I go straight to bed, hoping with every fibre of my being that when I wake up, I will find out that it was all a dream and I'm still in my hotel room in London; that Alex hasn't gone to the party yet and has never said that he loves me, and it was all just my imagination. But when I wake up the next morning, I'm still in my bedroom at home, and everything comes crashing down on me.

Alex may or may not love me.

I instantly feel sick. The effect of those three words feels like a boulder on my heart. I can't catch my breath. Alex can't be in love with me; no one can. That just doesn't seem right, not with me. With Lexi or anyone else, yeah, but not with me. Even so, why me? What's so special about me that would cause the most good looking, popular guy in school to fall for me? That doesn't happen.

Somehow, I manage to drag myself out of bed and pull on some sweatpants and a black t-shirt, forcing myself to go downstairs. I don't make my way into the kitchen to get coffee. Instead, I'm out the door and walking towards my car. After sending a text to my dad telling him that I'm going down to the beach, I start driving.

I go straight to the place where I always sit when I need clarity and peace. Sitting with my back against the promenade wall, I properly start to think about the situation I'm now in and will have to deal with on my own.

If Alex did drunkenly splurge the truth, then how come he treated me so terribly while he was in love with me? I guess I could understand that he would be able to do so if he just liked me, but loving someone is so much more different, so much deeper than that. How could someone treat a person they love like crap for nearly three whole years, no less? When did he even start to love me?