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I want to tell him about my dreams, the dreams where he’s hurt and asking for help, ask him if everything’s okay. But it’s too soon. We had sex, and then more sex, and more sex. And it was great, but I feel we haven’t really talked at all.
Not yet.
He lets me explore his face, eyes hooded, lowering himself more firmly over me. I stroke the smoothness of his cheekbones, the bridge of his nose, a tiny scar on his forehead, the thickness and softness of his hair.
It feels as if I haven’t seen him in ages, when it’s only been two days. He had an assignment to hand in, and my sis was back in town, briefly.
It was bad. She broke down and cried like I’ve never seen her do before. I felt so helpless. Like, she depends on me and I feel like I’m letting her down, unable to fix this, take away her pain. What’s the use of taking notes and signing the presence sheet in class, doing her work in that office, if I can’t make a real difference where it matters?
But how can I fix anything?
“Hey…” Merc rolls off me to sit beside me, puts a finger under my chin and makes me look at him. “Where did you go?”
Those blue eyes shouldn’t look so knowing, like he can read my every thought.
It should scare me.
It does, a little.
“I’m just thinking of my sister,” I say.
He seems to be waiting for more, and I’m not sure I want to talk about it now. About my sister’s issues, about my sister, period.
So I’m probably as surprised as he is when I blurt out, “Merc… is it my sister who you want? I mean… it was my sister you saw first. You thought I was her, so…”
Silence drops like a rock, ripples spreading in circles.
His eyes widen. Then he rubs his hands over his face and grimaces. “You two look so damn alike.”
“So I’m right?”
His mouth tightens, his gaze filling with shadows. “Right about what? It’s you I want.”
“How do you even know that?” And why am I asking him this now, when what I really want to do is jump his bones and forget every doubt that has ever plagued me?
The question is out now, though, and I realize I want to know, that it had been bothering me like a thorn under the skin.
He’s frowning as he sits back, against the headboard, drawing his knees up. “On the surface you’re almost the same. I honestly thought I was talking to the same girl every time, though I thought…”
“You thought what?”
He gives a faint smile. “I used to call you psycho girl. In my mind only,” he adds hastily.
“Excuse me?” In spite of myself, I start laughing again. “You serious?”
He shrugs. “Sometimes I’d see you, and you’d smile at me and say hi, but
most of the time you’d pretend you didn’t know me. It was so fucking weird, and I couldn’t understand why sometimes I liked you, and wanted you, and sometimes I felt nothing.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Don’t tell her, but your sister doesn’t do it for me.”
My smile gets wider. “That so?”
“That is so, Your Honor. You’re the one I want, the one I like. The way you dress, the way you talk. Your smile. Your laughter. I love your smile. And…”
I look down, then back at him. “And?”
