After Reading My Boyfriend’s Mind, I Dumped Him for Good Chapter 11
If he wanted to play hero, fine.
I looked away.
The game went on, though the energy in the room had definitely soured.
By the third round, the bottle landed on Jake.
Despite myself, I kept glancing past him toward Atticus.
His face was shockingly white, but his neck was flushed an angry red.
He looked absolutely miserable, just sitting there, lips pressed tight, like he was fighting through something.
“Hey, I’m talking to you.” Jake nudged me.
I looked up and realized everyone was staring at me.
“What?” I blinked. “The bottle didn’t land on me.”
“You spaced out.” Someone laughed. “Jake got Dare. He has to confess to someone.”
I frowned. “And?”
“He wants to know if he can confess to you.”
More laughter erupted around the table.
Jake leaned in, his tone playful. “Come on, help me out.”
“Just play along. I’ll get you that bracelet you’ve been eyeing.”
His voice wasn’t loud. Most people couldn’t hear him.
But I was on his left, and Atticus on his right-we both caught every word.
Before I could answer, a shadow fell over us.
Atticus had gotten to his feet. His face went ashen.
“No.” His eyes were fixed on me.
I hadn’t planned on agreeing anyway.
Jake’s gaze flickered. “What does that have to do with you?”
Something felt off.
What was Jake playing at? I thought he had a crush on some upperclassman?
I couldn’t make sense of it.
All I could see was the stubborn pain in Atticus’s eyes. His face went ashen
It looked as though every ounce of strength had drained from him.
“No.” His voice sounded strained. “Don’t.”
A bad feeling settled in my stomach.
I reached out and grabbed his arm. The instant I touched him, my scalp tingled.
He was burning up. That wasn’t normal-no one’s temperature should be that high.
“Call an ambulance!”
I was livid.
Atticus was out of his damn mind. Seriously, what the hell was wrong with him?
“Who drinks after taking cold medicine?” I snapped. “Are you trying to get yourself killed? Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?!”
The doctor had barely left the hospital room before I threw a pillow straight at his face.
Atticus lay against the hospital bed.
His lips were unnaturally pale, making his reddened eyes stand out even more.
“I’m sorry, Cece.”
The nickname caught me off guard.
Back when we were together, I’d coaxed him into using it. But he only ever said it when I pushed him past his
limit.
“What are you trying to do?” I glared at him.
“If you hate me so much, then why won’t you just leave me alone? I seriously regret ever getting involved with
you.”
A hand suddenly covered my mouth.
Atticus looked dazed, the alcohol clearly kicking in.
Tears began spilling down his face one after another.
A sober Atticus never cried. Never. Only drunk Atticus did.
The last time was on my birthday, when I’d coaxed him into drinking way too much.
Afterward, he’d turned into a completely different person. Soft. Clingy. Sweet.
He’d held me all night and said more in those few hours than he had the entire year we’d been together.
I lowered my gaze to the hand covering my mouth.
An IV was taped to the back of his hand. He looked so pitiful.
“I didn’t do it on purpose.” His voice trembled. “I forgot I took cold medicine.”
“I saw you didn’t want to kiss me, so I wanted to take the penalty instead.”
“I was just… in such a hurry. I forgot.”
