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When I look at Harrison, there are so many things I want to say to him. There are a lot of things I wish that he knew, like why I’m so wildly uncomfortable around him.
Like why I feel like I’m slowly starving to death and it has nothing to do with food.
Being raised in the O’Conner household felt like suffocating. Even when Harrison’s mom was alive, it felt lonely. I was always isolated from other people. Despite the fact that I went to school, my playmates were carefully selected and limited. Most of the time, I was banished to my room to spend time with my dolls when Harrison had friends or girlfriends over. Even in middle school, I wasn’t allowed to date or have any friends who were boys.
My entire life was carefully guarded.
Can I really do this for the rest of my life?
Miss Amber stands, grabbing her phone. She looks at the two of us, and seemingly decides that we’re harmless.
“I’ll be right back,” she says. “Don’t go anywhere.”
Before we can say anything at all, she leaves study hall and we’re there.
Alone.
Together.
“What’s your deal?” Harrison asks sharply.
“What?” I look at him, confused. What the hell did I do to him? I haven’t even talked to him. I definitely haven’t bothered him.
“You heard me,” he says. “What’s your deal?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“I think you do,” he says.
“I mean, you’re free to think that, but it doesn’t mean you’re speaking any more clearly than you were a second ago. What are you talking about?”
“You’re hot and then you’re cold. You look at me like you want to fuck me, and then you look at me like you’re terrified of me. You act like I’m a brother to you, and then you act like you don’t know me. What’s the problem?”
Harrison is supposed to be a bully.
He’s supposed to be this huge dickhead, and most of the time, he totally is.
Not always to me, no, but he’s generally considered to be something of an asshole. Now his heart of gold is starting to show through because he’s actually asking about my feelings, and more importantly, it actually sounds like he cares.
Shit.
I’m in trouble.
“I’m not terrifie
d of you,” I tell him. That much, at least, is true.
“Then why don’t you like me?”
“You’re kind of a dick, Harrison, in case you didn’t notice.”
“I don’t think it bothered you before,” he says. “This is something new.”
Why does he have to be so on the nose with this stuff? Why does he have to know me so well that he’s calling me out like this? It’s not fair.
I want my secrets.
I just shrug, not willing to tell him what’s been bothering me. I don’t bother to tell him what Frank made clear over the summer. I’ve had almost six months to think about Frank’s words and his promise. That’s plenty of time to realize that if I don’t find a way to act, then my life will become completely absorbed by Harrison’s.
