One Week Girlfriend part 1

corny as it sounds, I’m starting to believe we were brought together for a reason.
     
    Drew
     
    As usual, she’s looking at me like she can see right through me, and she’s making me nervous. I’ve stayed away from Fable all day on purpose. Everything that happened last night left me feeling like I could spiral completely out of control if I didn’t get my shit together and quick. I haven’t felt that way in long time. This is the reason why I don’t come back home.
    And I’m never coming back here after this visit. I don’t care how much I might hurt my dad, I can’t do this any longer. I can’t pretend that this place, these people don’t affect me. They do. Everything fucks with my head and reminds me of what I used to be. I don’t want to be that person anymore. I’m not.
    There’s no other choice. I have to stay away.
    Looking at Fable, seeing the sympathy in her eyes, I know I should stay away from her too. Once she really gets to know me, I could hurt her. I know I’ll hurt her. I’m afraid she’s this close to figuring out what my problem is. And if she doesn’t, I’m afraid I’m this close to blurting it out. Once I confess, I can never take it back. Ever. It’ll be out there, making the both of us uncomfortable. Ruining whatever sort of relationship, friendship, whatever you want to call it, we have.
    I couldn’t stand the thought, so I left the house early, jumping on the chance to golf with my dad when he asked. Not only did we play a long, intense eighteen rounds with a couple of his friends, we then ended up at the golf course bar. I’m not a big drinker but I slammed back beer after beer, enjoying the buzz the alcohol gave me. My brain settled into a numb, fuzzy place where I could just forget.
    We joked, we talked, my dad bragged about what a great football player I am and that made me feel good. Dad and I don’t get a lot of time together alone. Adele’s always there trying to muck stuff up, or we’re doing something that doesn’t allow for too much one-on-one time. The lunch we had together yesterday had been uncomfortable, and I’m thankful we got past that.
    Spending today with Dad was good for both of us. But I always had that nagging feeling in the back of mind. That I was ditching Fable and doing it on purpose and the guilt lingered.
    That’s why I told her I was sorry.
    “I caught your stepmom sniffing around outside this afternoon.” Fable’s tone is casual, but her words are like nine little bombs dropping all over me.
    Tension radiates up my spine, across my shoulders and I stiffen. “Yeah?”
    Fable nods. “I confronted her.”
    “What?” Shock rips through me. So does fear. What if Adele said something?
    “Yeah. She didn’t like it either. Told me that we wouldn’t last, that I wasn’t your usual type.”
    I remain silent, afraid of what she might say next.
    “And when I asked her what was your type, she said she was.”
    The blood is roaring in my ears so whatever else Fable says I can’t hear it. Her lips are moving and I literally cannot hear her.
    Without thought I stand and go back to my bedroom. She’s calling my name, her voice is faint and I think she’s following after me, but I’m not sure. I can’t see, my vision is blurred and I’m ready to boil over in shame and fear and rage.
    Adele’s taken it too far. Again. She always does. I want to tell Fable everything but I can’t. I’m scared she’ll hate me. Judge me.
    Be so disgusted by me she’ll leave.
    We’re barely halfway into this stupid trip and it’s all going to shit. I don’t know how to handle this anymore.
     
    Fable
     
    I chase after him, calling his name, but it’s like Drew can’t hear me. The way his face became so completely void of emotion when I told him what Adele said was scary. He shut down right in front of me and it was the strangest thing. Like he was throwing up some sort of coping mechanism or something.
    He slams his bedroom door right in my face and I open it, bursting into his room like a woman on a mission. He’s standing in the middle of the room with his back to me, his head thrown back so he’s staring up at the ceiling. I wish I could read his thoughts, offer him comfort, something. Anything.
    But I just stand there, shifting on my feet, overcome with confusion.
    “You should go,” he says, his voice darkly quiet.
    “Fine, I’ll leave you alone.” I understand when someone wants time to himself. I’m big on that most of the time