Seeing Shane Gray ✓

thirty one | trust

*.*.*.*.*.*

November 24

Despite Shane having asked me to stay in until he calls me, I make my way out as soon as I have a jacket on. It's dark, and the only source of light is the few streetlights standing tall in the street. They illuminate the damp sidewalk as I exit my house, closing the door softly behind me. I glance at the garage as I walk, noticing mom's car standing there. The wind is cold, biting against the bare skin of my face, and I rip my hair free of the loose rubber band. I sigh a breath of relief when they cascade down my shoulders, covering my ears on their way. As I make it down the walking path toward the gate and the main street, I see two bright lights preceding closer.

Shane's Navigator stops right before me and I hug myself tighter as I approach it, my fluffy slippers barely making a sound on the concrete. He cuts the engine and I pull the passenger side door open, jumping in and closing it shut behind me.

"Shit, Taylor," Shane mumbles in the darkness, reaching up for something.

The light pops on, shining bright between us. I squint, noticing how warm the inside of the car is. Before I can see Shane's face, though, I extend a hand and grab his arm, pulling it toward me.

"Taylor --" he begins.

I don't care, pulling back his sleeves to see his clean left inner forearm before taking his right hand into mine. Once I'm sure he hasn't cut himself, I lift my gaze to his face.

"You haven't taken anything, have you?" I say, realizing only then how breathless I sound. I clear my throat and swallow down my panic, never blinking or breaking eye contact. "Pills, poison, anything --"

"No," Shane says quickly, shaking his head. "No, Tay, relax, I haven't."

"You promise?" I croak.

"Yes, I swear," Shane says.

Dropping his hand, I slump back against the seat. I huff out a heavy breath, willing my heart to stop pounding. I didn't know how worried I was until I saw Shane. My fingers tremble and I clench them in my lap, focusing on my breathing. It's strange how frightened I was for Shane.

"Taylor?" Shane speaks, peeking closely at my face.

"I was afraid you hurt yourself," I confess, closing my eyes and inhaling deeply. "You said you did."

There isn't an answer and I open my eyes, looking at Shane and noticing how pale he is. The circles under his eyes are more pronounced than I remember, his cheekbones sticking out. He's lost weight.

"Shane." I straighten up and adjust closer. "You said you're hurting yourself. Please tell me you were kidding. I know you weren't but ..."

His upper teeth dig into his lower lip and he signs mournfully, closing his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he whispers.

"I want to know why," I say, not at all sure of myself.

Do I really want to know? A part of me doesn't, to be honest. I would rather know Shane is fine and happy. Nonetheless, I hope finding out what's hurting him might enable me to help him out of it.

Without answering me, Shane lifts a hand and digs into a pocket of the coat he's wearing. He pulls out something small and cylindrical and orange, holding it out to me. As I place my palm before him, Shane places the small pill bottle in my hand.

"I've been taking Adderall," he says, his voice low and uncertain.

I stare at him.

"What's Adderall?" I ask, afraid of what he might say.