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And then all of me will spill out.
My guts will be on the floor.
And everyone will run away.
Nobody knows I have depression. That I'm on drugs. That my thoughts go to dark places when things get bad.
Nobody knows I'm broken.
And I want to keep it that way.
"Kay." Brendon runs his fingertips over my forearm. "You okay?"
"Just thinking."
"You ever share your writing with people?"
"Grandma reads my fan fiction. She's encouraging."
"Show me something."
My cheeks flame. The thought of Brendon reading one of my bad poems... It's horrifying. "Show me something in your sketchbook. Something that isn't a tattoo mockup."
His jaw cricks. His eyes fill with surprise. "I'll jump if you do."
"Maybe later. There's not much time left." And I'm not a good actor. I can't pretend that I haven't seen every inch of that sketchbook.
He nods. "Fiv
e minutes."
"Five minutes." I refresh the school's website for good measure. It's the same. The same Registration Not Available is there in all red.
"What else are you taking?"
"Huh?"
"Besides creative writing."
"Oh. Advanced American literature. Chemistry. Latin four."
"Latin four?"
"Yeah." I chew on my fingernail. "It was supposed to be my elective. But now I have creative writing too."
He chuckles.
"What?" I move on to the nail of my middle finger. Hit refresh. Registration not available.
"That's perfect for you."
"Thanks. I think." Ring finger nail, here I come.
His hand curls around my wrist. "Kay."
"Yeah?" I turn toward him. Get stuck staring into his eyes. God, those eyes are beautiful.
"You're gonna be okay."
