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“Yup.”
“Who was he?”
My fingers curl even tighter into the loose fibers of the carpet now. It’s new. When I bought the house, I had all the carpets changed out because the old ones were disgusting, but I shouldn’t say new. It’s only a few years old. I wait, holding my breath because that was way too bold a question. What am I even doing asking her this shit? What am I playing at this? It’s not right, and it’s going to blow up on me because starting to actually like Feeney was never part of the plan. I thought I could just get what I wanted and convince her she wanted it too. I wasn’t allowing any room for actual human emotion to get in the way.
“I don’t know,” she whispers. She does a good job of hiding her emotion because her voice is totally flat. “I didn’t even look him up. I didn’t want to know. Someone my dad wanted to do business with—if you can even believe that. They wanted to parcel me up as part of a business deal. It was crazy. They were just talking and talking and talking, and I zoned out after the first few sentences. I didn’t even hear what they were saying. I just knew I had to get out of there. It was so shocking because I never thought they’d do…well, anyway…I thought they loved me. And I do know they love me and care about me, which is why it was so unlike them to even think of something like that.”
“Maybe they just wanted you both to meet? They probably wouldn’t have forced you into it if they love you.”
“I…I don’t know. I tuned out and refused to listen to the rest. It was too crazy to even contemplate, no matter what their intentions were.”
“If it was out of character, maybe they just wanted you to consider the idea, or they thought you’d agree if you liked the guy. Or maybe it’s easier to get married if you don’t love someone.”
“Why? So, they can’t hurt you? I guess. I…I did…fuck!”
I lift my head a fraction but don’t look at her. We seem to be doing better with talking without making eye contact. “What?”
“I had a bad break up last year. The guy I was dating was a dick. He probably was from the start, but he kept it conveniently hidden for quite a while. He was basically just after me for my money. He was using me, and when I found out, it hurt so much. I told my parents it would be easier for me if they just found me an arranged marriage. That way, I wouldn’t have to go through it all again. I also had uh…a few bad relationships before that—a few bad experiences. I never loved any of them, but it still hurt to be treated badly, let down, used, and even cheated on once. It just…it sucked. But I didn’t mean it. Oh my god, do you think they thought I meant it?”
“I honestly don’t know.”
“I was acting crazy at the time! I mean, I was really upset. Like, really upset. You don’t think…”
“I really don’t know.”
“Oh my god!” I hear a whoosh and a thump, and I gather Feeney grabbed her pillow off the other side of the bed and fell back with it over her face. She smothers the next sounds that come out of her mouth, so I assume they’re not worth hearing. She hates swearing, but it’s probably all filthy words.
“Maybe you should talk to them?” I suggest when she’s silent. “Maybe the guy isn’t so bad. Maybe he’s…maybe he’s actually quite normal and decent, and you could grow to like each other.”
“No. I’m not ready. I’m not going to call them.”
I let out a long exhale. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath in for the past—I don’t know—the whole time I’ve been in here? Why does it feel like I can breathe now? Because we talked? Because for now, Feeney is staying here with us? With Shade and me? Because she’s thinking about the stuff going on in her life now, and it makes me feel better?
Maybe she has so much shit going on in her own life that me lying here prone on the carpet, pouring out the darkest essence of my soul to her, at midnight, in her room, after creeping at her door, doesn’t seem so weird to her.
This is seriously fucked up.
I can’t do this. And not just tonight. I don’t know if I can do it at all.
“I uh…thanks.” I shove to my feet so fast that I give myself a head rush. “I should probably go…”
Feeney lowers the pillow from her face. She looks very pale, her eyes are huge, and her cheeks are ashen. God, she’s beautiful. She looks sad, lost, alone, and slightly scared. I wish I could offer her some kind of comfort, but I probably look like a wreck too. Strangely enough, I wish we could just wrap ourselves up in each other’s arms and hold each other and not be lonely anymore. Like we did last night. But no. She said she didn’t want that. She might have kissed me back, but she said she didn’t want it, and holding each other can’t just be platonic. I know it can’t because what happened last night was explosive and potent. It was jarring, shocking, and dangerous.
