Okay, maybe I was in a shell.
That was how I’d always dealt with things. Push things down so you don’t have to deal with your problems.
Where do all those feelings of sadness and anger go?
I haven’t figured it out yet.
“We’re here!” Lorraine cheers, pulling me out of my head. She unbuckles before Niall even cuts the engine. “Can I go tell them, Mol? Can I go tell Mommy and Jamie?”
“Go ahead, Rainey,” I say. “Just walk carefully, so you don’t trip.”
Without needing a second invitation, she scrambles out of the car, her ballet bag swinging over her shoulder as she bolts for the front door. I watch her go, a tiny blur of pink tights and blonde hair. She’s so untethered by the tension in our house, always has been. I oftentimes found myself envying her for being young enough to be so innocent.
I haven't moved yet. My hand is on the door handle, but I can’t bring myself to pull it. I’m just not ready to go.
“Molly?”
I glance at Niall, seeing he’s shifted in his seat so his body is angled toward mine.
“I should go in,” I whisper.
“Just a minute,” he says, deep eyes searching mine. “Are you alright?”
I glance at the house, and then back to him, debating on lying to him. Then ultimately I let out a breath, decidingwhat the hell. “There’s just been... a lot going on.”
“I’ve noticed,” he says, the words bringing on more shock than they probably should. But the thought of Niall Blue noticing things about me made my heart spike just a little. “You can tell me, ya know. I’ve been waiting for you to come to me on your own, I just haven’t wanted to push you on it. But just know that you can lay it on me whenever you’re ready—all of it.”
All of it? No way. There were monsters bigger and beyond what’s inside that house. Nightmares that paled in comparison to a complicated family dynamic.
No one can ever know all of it.
But some of it. Some of it I could do.
I tried my best to sum up the stuff, with Jamie and my mom, in as few words as possible. Though I threw in a few more “uhms” and “likes” than I probably should have, one of my worser habits.Filler words, I could practically hear my English teacher shaking her head at me. But Niall just keeps nodding along, listening.
“I just feel... a bit lonely there,” I conclude, feeling stupid as I say it. But then I remember what I told Claire last Friday, and try to tell myself to shut up and take my own advice.If it’s bothering you, it’s not stupid.“Even with Lorraine. I don’t know how to explain it.”
“I think I get it,” Niall finally says. “But you know, you don’t have to be lonely. You can call me anytime you want—or Claire, or some other friend, even JJ. Though I’d use the last one sparingly. You mightwantto be lonely.”
I let out a laugh, one that makes me realize I’ve become choked up. I try to steel my nerves instantly. If I cry in front of him, I might just die.
“And I can’t speak for anyone else, but I’d come over in a heartbeat. I’ll be as loud and annoying as you want and make you forget you were ever lonely in the first place.”
I crack a smile and risk using my voice. “You’d do that?”
“I’d do a lot of things to keep that look off your face,” he murmurs. “Sadness doesn’t quite fit you, Molly Lockhart.”
He leans in closer, the air in the car feeling like it’s suddenly charged with electricity. Like if this were a storm, lighting could strike any second with all the heat crackling between us. But I’m so caught up I can’t even brace myself for impact; I’m too busy mapping down every detail of his face.
His eyes. His cheekbones. His nose, which looks like it’s been broken at some point in his past. His long eyelashes.Why do boys always have such long and pretty eyelashes?
“Niall,” I breathe, my map leading me to his lips, looking incredibly soft right now. Like they’ve got a big, neon sign lit up, beckoning me closer.
This could be bad.
“Molly,” he says, sounding just as out of breath as me. A quick flick of my eyes tells me his have mapped their own path to my own lips.
Or it could be good?
