Page 47 of Breathe Like Hell

“But will you ever be honest with me? Can you be honest?” A sad, fearfully-hopeful feeling tugged in my chest.

“Ask me something right now and I’ll answer honestly.”

“Why do you even like me?” I blurted out before I could stop myself or think of a smarter question. I didn’t want to waste his honesty, but this insecurity was integral to my nature. “I still can’t figure out why you chose me, or how this happened between us. You say things, but I don’t know.”

“That’s a big question.” Micah took a deep breath. I was still on edge, but less so with each passing minute, with each steadying touch from him. Whatever I’d done, however I’d hurt him, was being put away for now. The door I’d never meant to open was slowly closing.

Or at least, that’s what I believed was happening. That’s what I hoped.

“But I promised you an answer,” Micah continued.

“Yes, you did. But I don’t care, just—just say whatever comes to your mind first, or⁠—”

“Hey,” Micah cut me off, holding my face with two hands, tilting my head back as he stepped forward so I was looking up at him. “I’m not at a loss for words here. I have many, many words I could say about you, but you need to let me speak. Okay?”

“Okay,” I breathed.

“Okay,” he echoed. “I like the way you think about things. All the time, I wish I could grade your exams from other classes because I just fucking love seeing your brain on paper like that.”

His eyes switched back and forth between mine, seeking out all my hidden places.

I had a lump in my throat already.

“Your work in the margins, your neat handwriting, the way you fold the paper at the staple,” Micah continued. “From your first lab report, it was very apparent to me which sections you did. Your group is smart—I won’t discredit them—but there’s a thoughtfulness in the way you write. You’re very purposeful with your words. The way you structure your sentences makes me want to steal your journal so I can see everything you write in there, see what words you choose when you’re not constrained by an engineering assignment.”

There was a pause and I opened my mouth, maybe to say something, but Micah wasn’t done talking.

“You’re quiet and perceptive and introspective and smart. The more time I spend observing you in lab or in class, the more I wish I could go farther with you.” His head tilted and his brows pulled together. My heart squeezed. “Obviously, it will be a good thing when you’re no longer my student, since there will no longer be risk of expulsion, but I selfishly wish I could teach you forever. I’m not sure I’ll be satisfied with one semester.”

I didn’t even realize I was crying until Micah softly wiped away my tears with his thumbs, holding me like I was something precious.

His answer was so specific that I knew it was true. Like always, he could see right through me, right to all the soft, needy parts I wanted to pretend didn’t exist. All the parts of me that wanted reassurance and praise and stability and someone to take care of me. Someone to know how to take care of me in the way my brain needed.

“I don’t know what I expected you to say,” I whispered.

“I see you, Masters. I always have and I always will.”

“I know you do.” More tears tipped over my lashes, streaming down my cheeks. Micah’s thumbs swept underneath my eyes to catch them. “I’m trying to see you, too.”

He stiffened slightly.

“I’m sorry.” I lunged forward, burying my face back in his chest, my arms wrapping around his torso, hoping I didn’t mess up this conversation again. He seemed to feel better when I was quieter—not asking him questions or talking about him.

He only liked talking about me.

My phone buzzed loudly on the edge of the sink, startling me. I straightened up rapidly.

Micah’s eyes snapped to mine.

At the same time, we both reached for my phone, but he was faster. With only the quickest flash of the screen, I knew it was Mason who texted me. In the blink of an eye, Micah’s expression had shifted, his face becoming a mask again. Like he was made of stone, like the man I’d just been speaking to had disappeared inside this other one.

My heart sank, dropped, like I’d just tripped off the edge of something tall.

“Sometimes I forget how two-faced you are.”

He left without another word.

I stood frozen, staring at the blank space he’d left behind, my face hot with a combination of anger and hatred and embarrassment and guilt.