Ch. 65 Reasons

It makes sense

in a Jesse Hilton sort of way.

I finally look over at him

and I meet his eyes.

I hold his gaze for 

one

two

three

seconds

then I look away again.

"My mom,"

I say gruffly, because it takes too much effort

to get the words out,

"wants me to see a shrink."

"Is that why you were so mad earlier?"

I nod and flick at an ant making it's way towards my shoes.

That wasn't the first time she mentioned therapy.

She's brought it up a few times before

but I always tell her no.

She even had the nerve

to try and force me to go

when I came back from the hospital

and didn't leave my bed for three days.

She's worried

because i'm in the same condition I was in

three weeks ago.

"I don't know what she expects of me.

She seems to think I'll magically get better

and just be my old self again in no time."

My voice is slowly getting louder and I'm speaking faster.

"She never liked Charlotte.

I don't think she understands why I'm not going to be the same

just over night."

I stretch my legs back out

and lean forward,

running my fingers back through my hair.

"I don't know what she wants from me."

Jesse stares at me for a moment.

"Well," he says slowly.

"Do you think you need therapy?"

I shrug and say "I don't know.

What do you think?"

He bites his lip.

"Ahem."

"Well?"

He sighs.

"I don't think you need it,"

he says. "But I think you should go

if it means you'll feel better."

"But I don't want to go."

"Are you sure about that?" he asks.

"Don't no go just to piss off you mom."

"I'm not," I say. 

But I don't know if I'm lying or not.

"I just don't want to."

"Well, Short-stack," he says,

"I don't want you to feel bad."

For the second time that day,

Jesse catches me off guard.

I look at him, frowning.

He's looking at me so sincerely, and unwaveringly

behind those wire rimmed glasses.

This is the nicest he's ever been to me,

even including when we were actually friends.

I don't know why he's being like this.

I don't want him to be.

It makes me nervous.

It makes me self-conscious.

It makes me defensive.

"Well what do you know?"

The words come out so harshly before I can even process 

what I'm thinking.

"Why do you even care, Jesse?"

"I just do."

For some reason those three words set me off.

As soon as he says them, I feel something bubbling in my stomach.

I feel so angry.

"No, you don't." I scowl at him.

"You don't care.

You never care about anything other than yourself

and you proved that at Miles's when you--"

I can't even finish.

"Riley," he says, gently touching my arm. "Calm down."

I roughly shove his hand away. "Get off me."

How dare he.

How dare he come here

and pretend for a second

that he cares about me.

About Charlotte.

About anything.

I want to scream and yell and shout at him

but then I see Johnny's car driving towards us.

So I swallow the urge to scream and yell and shout.

I stand up

because I just want to get out of there.

But Jesse stands up too and blocks my way to Johnny's car.

"Get out of the way, Jesse!" I say.

"You don't need to pretend that you care about any of this!

I don't need this from you!"

"Riley, I'm not pretending!"

"Just stop it!" I exclaim.

I force myself to breathe.

To take a step back.

To lower my voice.

"You don't understand.

You will never understand."

"I want to."

"Why?" I ask. "Why do you all of a sudden want to so much?"

"Because," he says.

He's struggling to think of an answer.

His forehead creases.

He clears his throat.

His mouth moves over and over, trying to think of something to say.

"Because we're friends," he finally manages to get out.

As soon as he says it,

I laugh.

It's mocking,

and hurtful,

and it's cruel.

But I just hate him so much.

"You are so stupid, Jesse Hilton," I say.

"You are the farther thing I have ever had from a friend."