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“I promise I’m not going to hate it.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“I can. I already know you’re insanely talented. And you created something out of nothing. That’s incredible. If you’re not going to celebrate that, I will. Besides, I could never dislike anything you do.”
“You haven’t even read it yet.”
“Then hand it over already.”
I duck back into my room and take a deep breath. There’s a running chant ofdo it, do it, do itgoing through my head. It’s the same buzzy feeling I always get when I really want something I’m shit scared about.
But I made a promise to Sebastian, and if there’s one thing I hate more than sharing, it’s letting people down, so… here goes nothing.
He’s filling the sink with water and detergent when I return, and I wait until the tap is shut off before thrusting a small stack of paper at him. “That’s the first few chapters.”
He pries them from my hand, surprisingly gentle, and I remind myself that I wanted this. Asked for it. Besides, it’s Sebastian. I trust him.
“Thank you,” he says. Fuck, even his voice is soft, more like chalk than his usual gravel. I like it. Always have.
Now that I’ve handed it over, I’m not really sure what to do with my hands. Sebastian is not helping, eventhough all he’s doing is standing there, looking at me. Seeing through me.
“It’s not about dirt,” I say. “The cleaning.” It’s strange, saying it out loud, the conversation I’ve had with myself (and at least one therapist). “I don’t actually mind the mess, although mold is a different story.”
“Is it the habit, or something else?”
There’s nothing accusatory in his voice, but I still feel nervous. “It has a little bit to do with the habit. It’s calming. Like setting everything right again. Clean slate. I’m trying to work out how to phrase it in a way that’ll make sense.”
“Start with how it makes sense to you.”
“Okay,” I say with an exhale. “Do you remember taking a really important exam?” I wait for him to nod. “You’d enter the room and set your things out. There’d be this moment right before you were allowed to start, where anything was possible. You hadn’t passed or failed yet. You still had every second of time you could have, and it was just…”
I can handle dirt, mess. Cleaning helps me think. It helps me not think too. There’s something so calming about a clean slate.
“Possibility,” he finishes.
It’s the story of my whole life, honestly. Putting potential on a pedestal could be my full-time job. But I’m never, ever allowed to open that door.
Because I’m not sure I’d like what I find when I do.
“Yes. That’s what it feels like. Like I’m setting a place. Putting things in order.”
“Preparing for greatness.”
I roll my eyes, because he’s looking at me far too earnestly. Christ, I have no idea how to deal with it. “I don’t know about that. I haven’t done anything all that great yet.”
“Bullshit.”
It startles a laugh out of me, and I feel warm when he smiles back.
“You’re still going to help me, right?”
“I told you I would.” The weight and sincerity of his tone are intoxicating. If Sebastian told me the sky was green right now, I’d only want to know whether it was the same color as his eyes.
He brushes my arm with his elbow. “What will help? We can split the chores, make a roster, anything.”
Oh. I never considered he’d want to help.
“You don’t have to do that.”
