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I stood up and faced him. “Then what?”
“I just…I have to go.”
He walked toward me and placed his fingertips under my chin. “Please look at me. I don’t want it to be like this.”
“For what to be like what?” I was deliberately being difficult. Being kind and supportive wasn’t exactly working for me. But maybe if I was matching his sour attitude with my own, he’d have no choice but to be real with me.
“Us…to be like this.” He ran his fingers through my hair, staring into my eyes. His expression was tortured, and it broke my heart. Something was wrong, and he wasn’t willing to tell me what it was.
“I don’t either,” I whispered, placing my hands on his wrist. He sighed in relief and brushed his lips against mine ever so gently. I relaxed into him and deepened the kiss, moving my hands to his back and pulling him closer. His tongue caressed mine like it always did, and for the tiniest of moments, I was able to forget all the stupid fights we’d had and hoped that things would be better.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow will be better.
“I love you, Tilly.” He sighed. “Sometimes, I love you so much it hurts.”
“I know the feeling,” I said, my heart pounding as I placed my forehead against his chin. He pressed his lips to my skin, then pulled me in for a tight hug. His pager went off again, and I resisted the urge to ask who was trying so hard to reach him.
“I’m sorry…for everything.”
“That’s a weird thing to say.”
“No,” he said, pausing. “It’s not.”
He kissed me one more time on my forehead, his lips soft. “I’ll call you tonight.”
“I’m sleeping over at Veronica’s.” I pointed to my open duffle bag sitting on the end of my bed.
Wyatt’s shoulders tensed, and he swallowed hard. “That’s right. I forgot.”
“Are you hanging out with the guys?”
“No, um…my mom needs me for some stuff. You know, around the house.” His muscles were still tense, and his weak smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“Okay, then. I’ll see you,” I said, popping up on my tiptoes and kissing his nose. A genuine smile crossed his lips, and relief washed over me.
We’re going to be okay. It’s just a rough patch.
“Yeah,” he whispered. “Goodbye.”
“You’re a horrible influence on me,” I said, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as Veronica and I sat at our local donut shop, sharing a huge box of donut holes.
“What?” she asked, dramatically placing her hand over her heart like a southern belle. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I only eat these with you.”
“That’s because your mom hates donuts.”
“That’s partly true,” I said with a laugh. “She doesn’t trust herself with donuts. There’s a difference.”
“C’mon, it’s tradition. We’ve been doing it since the sixth grade. Sleepovers and donut holes.”
“Right, but I don’t have your freaky metabolism.”
“Liar. You have a body like Kate Moss. A buff Kate Moss.”
A sardonic laugh left my lips before I popped a glazed bundle of sugary cake into my mouth. “Not even.”
“Tilly Hamilton, you’re not fooling anyone.”
