Rich Prick by Tijan

49

Aspen

July had been long.

August was longer. I think because there was more at stake, and because college lay ahead of me at the end of the month. Until then, there was more family time. Nate was around a lot, but August still seemed endless.

No calls from Blaise. No texts.

He was serious, and I was serious.

I was also going insane.

I missed him.

I wanted him.

I cried for him.

I bargained in my head so I could contact him.

But no.

In the end, I didn’t reach out, and he didn’t either.

If he wasn’t doing the work, I was going to kill him.

That was my new mantra, and it was getting me through the month—that and listening to Nate call my parents every night and ream them out for things he’d been holding in since his high school years. Guess he needed a couple weeks to process, but them forgetting my graduation had been like the dam breaking with him.

He got mad, and then he got furious, and then he’d started sharing. I loved it.

Our parents wished he’d stop sharing.

I didn’t.