Find Me Again

Bastian

Ten Years Ago.

I've made a lot of bad choices in my short life. Seventeen, and somehow I've fucked up more times than I can count. Another was added to my list this morning, when I woke to texts from Chloe telling me how much she hates me. Yeah, yeah. I'm a horrible guy for not wanting the picture of me naked on her social media.

I'm not completely on show, per se, but it's obvious enough. I was drinking with some buddies last night, mind spinning as I logged online. There I was: Sprawled in Chloe's bed after we fucked, her thigh across my hips to cover my junk. I'd been asleep, I didn't know that she'd taken the photo. I'd sent Chloe some long, jumbled text about how she's wrong for posting that and to take it down or else we'd be done.

I'm not stupid. I know why she posted it. She's got some vendetta against Willow and wants her to see just how unattainable I am. It's fucked up. It's all fucked up.

It doesn't matter if Willow wants me or not. She's got a boyfriend, one she's had for a year now. He's a nice kid, shy but funny. Not quite the type I'd choose for her, but who am I to say? I'm graduating this year, she's only a freshman. I'll be eighteen in Spring, she's only just turned fifteen.

Chloe and I have been together for two years now. I wouldn't say I'm into it anymore, but she passes the time. I'll be gone soon enough, off to college a few states away. Chloe has no plans for her future and that's fine- for her. I'll break up with her eventually, I just need a distraction for these last few months.

It's midday, Chloe still hasn't taken the photo down. I know Willow has seen it. She follows Chloe and she was online ten minutes ago. I grit my teeth, locking my phone and running my hand through my hair. Chloe has a private account but everyone in school follows her. I don't need all of my classmates seeing me practically naked.

A breath rushes from my lips as I unlock my phone again and type out a text to Chloe.

Bastian: That's it. I'm done. WE are done. Delete every post about me.

It takes mere seconds for her rage to hit my phone.

Chloe: Fuck you, Bastian. What I post is not your problem. You didn't have an issue when I posted myself in a bikini, so what's the difference with this? You just don't want Willow seeing it, right? Get over yourself. Not everything is about you.

I roll my eyes. Christ, it is quite literally about me. It's my body in the picture. I don't give a fuck about her posting herself in a bikini because she does it constantly. It's not like it's something no one has seen before.

Bastian: It's a picture of me. A NAKED picture of me. Delete it. We are done.

She doesn't respond, but she doesn't take the picture down either. Whatever, I'm out of the relationship anyway. Chloe pisses me off to no end. I'm fine when she's on her knees or under me, but I can't fucking stand her otherwise.

We've broken up and gotten together so often now, I'm numb to it. Sometimes I just need a fucking break. I'm sure she will be in my bed again next week.

I shove off of the couch, stretching my back. My head spins, alcohol still making its way through my system. I'm at my buddy Josh's place, then going to the gym. I was going to go to Chloe's after that, but now I'm not so sure. I don't want to go back to my uncle's.

Josh is still passed out on the ground. I step over him, grabbing my duffel bag from the chair next to the door. I don't wake him up before I leave, hopping into my truck and making my way to the shitty gym in the center of town.

It reeks of bleach and sweat, some middle aged guy jogging on the treadmill. I walk into the makeshift locker room, which is really just a bathroom. I strip off the shirt and jeans that smell of liquor and beer and change into athletic gear.