wednesday 2nd september
on the way to college
That certainly didn't help things, and he sat back on the bench, running his hands down his face. His phone continued to buzz on his knee. He couldn't talk to her. He couldn't. Not like this, not while he was still too panicked to pretend everything was fine. And besides, he was supposed to stay away anyway. Her fucking boyfriend had dirt on Jamie, and Jamie was under no illusion that he wouldn't talk. He wanted, so, so bad to pick up and just talk to her, but didn't. Instead, he declined the call, getting back to his feet. He didn't need all of this shit on the first day.
On shoving his hands back in his pockets in hope of stopping them from shaking, he discovered the pair of headphones that he'd been looking for. They'd disappeared a week ago. Exhaling heavily, he plugged them into his phone and tapped into a song, praying that they were still working. The music blasted into his ears, loud and strong, and he turned it up even further until the only thing he could hear was the music. He'd be fine.
As long as he entirely avoided Arabella and that whole "where the fuck were you why haven't i heard from you are you avoiding me" conversation. And the whole "how come you hardly came out all summer" thing from everyone else. And the whole A-level talk from his teachers. So, basically, he'd be fine if he went home and slept for the next week and a half. Maybe more.