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He doesn’t want to give me up.
His pretty little wallflower.
And Jesus, I don’t want to give him up either. I don’t want him to leave me or go anywhere. I only set him free because I thought that’s what he wanted. So I go to grab his hand again. I go to curl my fingers around his big, solid hand, but before I can do that, he lets go.
He takes his hand away and he sighs. “Fine.”
And then he steps out of the room, closing the door behind him and taking her away, clearing the coast for me.
I’m panicking.
I’m really fucking panicking right now.
But I tell myself to calm down.
I tell myself that nothing has happened. No tragedy has struck. No sky has fallen.
Yes, we almost got caught at my dad’s birthday party. We almost ruined everything. Everything we’ve done to keep our secret safe, to keep each other safe. And I can honestly say that I don’t care about myself. I don’t care about the gossip or the judgement that I’m sure people will throw at me, but I do care about him.
I’ve only ever cared about him.
But.
The key word is almost.
We almost got caught. We almost ruined everything.
Conrad saved us at the last second. He averted the crisis.
So as I said, no major damage has been done. My thorn wouldn’t let anything happen to me.
The only dramatic thing that happened over the weekend was that I told my parents.
I finally, finally took a stand.
And it had nothing to do with making graffiti or pulling a teenage stunt where I wouldn’t have to face them and talk about it.
No, this time I talked about it.
I told them about art school and my scholarship and that I’m not going to the college of their choice. I told them this is what I want to do with my life and yes, it’s different than what they want but I hope that they can support me. That I hope they can love me nonetheless.
As expected, they were angry. Very angry.
There were threats, loud voices, banging doors.
My mother couldn’t even look at me the entire time I was home. My dad kept threatening that he would pull my scholarship, that he knows the dean of NYU and he can have the offer rescinded.
But I told him that it wouldn’t matter if he did. Because there were other schools that I had applied to and I could get into one of them. And even if I didn’t then that would be fine too. Because I’m an artist. I will always be one. A degree won’t make or break me.
When that didn’t work, I told them that I was eighteen.
An adult. I’m allowed to do whatever I want and legally they can’t stop me.
Which finally penetrated my dad’s brain.
I’m not happy about it. I’ve never wanted to fight with them, argue with them, especially after the graffiti thing. I’ve always wanted peace, but I can’t do it anymore. I can’t let them control me like they do.
Although I will say that making graffiti on my dad’s car was way easier than actually confronting him like this. But I did it and I’ve never felt prouder of myself.
And I can’t wait to tell him, the man who inspired me to do this.
Who says that it wasn’t him at all. It was always me.
You could be someone’s dream girl…
He said that to me.
Before his own dream girl knocked on the door. Before he left with her and I let him go.
So maybe that’s why I’m panicking.
Because she wanted to tell him something.
Something about them. Something that sounded important.
And my mind, my heart hasn’t stopped racing since that moment. Since the moment he left with her, effectively taking the threat away from me. Because when I came out of the bathroom after a little while and rejoined the party, I couldn’t find them anywhere.
It’s Monday morning now and I need to find him.
I need to ask him.
But I’m late getting back to St. Mary’s, so I don’t get the chance to catch him during his run or dash up to his office — which these days, I wouldn’t normally do but it’s desperate circumstances — and find him before the first bell. Which isn’t ideal but it is what it is. I’ll see him during lunch, and no, we won’t be able to talk to each other but that’s okay. Just seeing him will give me a measure of peace and I can figure out how to talk to him later.
Only he figures it out first.
He comes to our table at lunch, talks to Callie, brings her lunch and things. He hangs out a little while Poe and Salem join in the conversation and I as usual try to look unaffected.
But it becomes difficult when he glances at me with his denim blue eyes, cool and calm, and says, “Can I talk to you for a second?”
