2. Everest

CHAPTER TWO

Everest

It’s hot.

Even inside, I can still feel the Miami heat seeping in. Since it’s summer, there’s no escaping the blistering temperatures. It’s especially brutal because the AC is broken in this apartment and the light breeze coming through the open window is barely helping cool me down.

Knox sits on the couch in the living room of his tiny one-bedroom rental, counting the cash in front of him, flipping through the bills, and humming when he sets them down. He looks up, dark brown eyes staring at me with interest. “You’re being weird.”

I snort, batting away his concern. I’m not being weird. Why would I be weird? Everything is totally okay.

“What’s wrong?” he presses, reaching for a half-lit joint on his coffee table. Lighting up, he looks at me thoughtfully before smirking. “I think I know what’s up.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose and collapse on the couch beside him, accepting the joint when he hands it to me. “If you know, then why do we have to talk about it?”

“I don’t know? It’s good for you?” He shrugs and takes the joint back. Throwing one arm over the back of the couch, he settles his hand on my shoulder as he pulls me in close. “Want to make out instead?”

I shake my head. Knox and I aren’t in any sort of relationship. I feel comfortable with him, because after everything went down freshman year, he was there for me in a way no one was. We developed a friendship based on acceptance and zero judgment. It was never sexual until a few months ago when we got too drunk and decided we were very interested in getting to know each other’s dicks. It’s mostly just to get out some excess tension because, while I love Knox, I don’t love him like that . We can get high, talk, watch movies together, and occasionally fuck around without any consequences.

Although I could use a way to let off some steam right now, I’m too nervous to get it up. “He hates me.”

He rolls his eyes, taking another drag from his joint. “He doesn’t hate you.”

“I would.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I let the high try to settle. It doesn’t work. I’m too amped up to enjoy the premium weed Knox gets. I sink into the couch, trying to even out my heartbeat with some deep, calming breaths. “I can’t believe my parents are making me do this.”

Call me a spoiled child, but I had really hoped that my parents would have gotten me my own apartment when starting at the University of Miami. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate all they do for me and understand the privilege I was raised in, but at this moment, it feels like the end of the world. I know it’s nothing to panic about, but that doesn’t stop my heart rate from quickening, my breaths from coming out a bit choppy at what’s going to happen.

In exactly two days, I’m going to be face-to-face with my brother, someone I haven’t actively been in a room with for months. Even longer since talking about anything meaningful or trading blank words over holidays. The knowledge that I’ll be living with him, being around him all the time, is enough to send me on a spiral. I love my brother. The superhero who can do no wrong. But sitting down to dissect my very complicated and confusing feelings about my big brother is something not even a thousand-dollar-an-hour-rate therapist can do.

I start to sweat.

“You need to calm down, babe,” Knox says, squeezing my shoulder. “Everything is going to be fine.”

I take the joint greedily and inhale a little too deep, which causes me to let out a harsh cough. “You don’t know that. What if he really does hate me? What if my parents are forcing him? What about?—”

“Everest, babe, deep breaths.”

I do as he says, but only feel marginally better. I wasn’t always like this. Growing up, I did everything my parents asked me, excelled in school, and played sports. I was just…normal. The annoying little brother who chased after his sibling, the kid who liked getting kisses on the cheek from his mom and shoulder slaps from his dad. When my collarbone shattered freshman year of high school, and my dreams of becoming a professional athlete went to shit, everything changed.

I don’t know exactly what happened, but suddenly everything in the world just became absolutely terrifying. Everything just… feels like so fucking much. Numb but scalding. Loud yet quiet like a whisper. Everything frantic and frenzied and so frightening. I don’t know what to do with myself when I’m like this, which is why I raced over to Knox’s place as soon as I felt the tell-tale signs of panic set in. We wouldn’t want the world to see a Hill fall from grace because they’re just a little too…

“Feel better?” Knox asks, massaging the back of my neck, causing my eyes to flutter shut. He chuckles. “Yeah, there you go.”

“Don’t laugh at me.”

“How can I not? You’re hilarious.”

“Take this seriously,” I snap, my irritability coming out. When he narrows his eyes, I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be taking this out on you. I’m just so nervous.”

“And you have no reason to be,” he assures me. “Everything will be fine, even if Elton and Rhys are both pieces of shit.”

I jab him in the stomach for that. For some reason, Knox has always been on the outs with Rhys and Elton. He’s never told me anything about their falling out or why there’s so much tension between them, and I haven’t wanted to ask in fear of being nosy.

“Be honest,” he starts, his dark eyes glossy as hell as he looks me over. “What’s freaking you out more? The idea of living with Elton or Rhys?”

I gulp. It’s the question I’ve dreaded that I knew he was going to ask. Knox isn’t an idiot, so he knows exactly which one is causing me this much stress. While I’ve iced out and isolated myself from my brother, I know that he’ll welcome me with open arms.

Rhys is an entirely different story.

What do you do when you’re going to move in with the person whose life you ruined?

Because of me, Rhys was expelled, rejected from his dream school, and kicked out of his home. I was a stupid fourteen-year-old who got in way over my head, and I cost him his future. Knox had a part to play in it—even though he feels zero guilt toward the subject—but this isn’t on him.

He isn’t the one who was buying the drugs.

He isn’t the one who let Rhys take them.

He isn’t the one who just watched while they took this exceptionally brilliant guy away.

I don’t know how Rhys is going to react. I doubt he’ll even talk to me, but will he be cruel? Will he try to make my life miserable?

Don’t I deserve that?

Jesus Christ, I’m a piece of shit.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Knox says, shaking me a bit and snapping me out of my self-loathing. He cups my face in both of his hands, staring deeply, like he’s trying to force my mind to believe his words. “You’re incredible, babe. They’d be idiots to treat you like anything less.”

I smile warmly. God, I wish I felt even an ounce of attraction to him besides the general ‘yeah, he’s hot.’ While Knox is a prickly asshole to everyone else, he’s not that bad once you get to know him, not that many people have the chance to. I appreciate that he’s trying to make me feel better, but it’s not working. Neither is the weed. I break apart from him and lean back on the couch, snagging the remote and placing it in his hand. “Want to watch a movie? I just need to get my mind off this.”

He waits a beat, calculation in his eyes before nodding. Turning on his television, he flicks through some streaming apps before settling on a horror movie—his preference, not mine—and we fall into a comfortable silence as the opening credits roll. I don’t pay much attention when it starts, though, my mind still buzzing and reeling from what’s about to happen. Even when Knox drapes me over his chest and starts to play with my hair, I don’t relax.

That deep-rooted, crippling feeling of dread washes through me. For some fucked-up reason, every worry I’ve ever had in my life resurfaces, like this move is opening a floodgate for all the scary shit in the world to smack me straight in the face.

I think about how much I miss lacrosse. I think about that one time I accidentally farted in third grade and some dickhead felt the need to point it out. I think about the first time I made out with a guy and ended up spitting in his mouth.

I think about all of it. All the shit centering around Elton and Rhys. Around what they could possibly think about me. About the fact that I need to be perfect, be composed, be everything a good roommate should be in order for them not to absolutely loathe my presence.

Fuck, I need more weed.