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Thirty-One
Joel
Right.
It was time to get to the bottom of this shit.
Make it clear where I stood.
Figure out exactly what kind of fucked up nonsense was putting that look on her face.
ThatI’dput on her face.
Withharpy.
Fuck.
I couldn’t believe I hadn’t put the pieces together until then—the little changes in her face, the way her body had gone still. But I couldn’t ignore that the hurt was deep.
AndI’ddone that.
So…I was going to make it right.
But this was more than an idiotic nickname.
This was the walking away, the sneaking out while I was asleep. This was the way she kept everyone at a distance with her work.
This was…her father’s lecture in the parking lot. Hiding her feelings about the washi tape.
The fear and embarrassment and shame that had come from losing it after the fire, crying about a brother who hadn’t lived long enough.
This was…using her body and all the beautiful things she could do with it, all the thingswecould do with it, to keep me at a distance, in a carefully contained box.
Because otherwise I might see this.
Revelations were colliding in my mind as the puzzle pieces slid together.
But it was after nine and her car alarm was still going off.
Prioritize.
Right.
I grabbed her hands, realized they were empty, so set about the pleasurable experience of searching her pockets for her keys. Not in the back ones. Not in the front right. But there in the front left, were her keys.
I plucked them out, hit unlock, and the alarm cut off.
Then I pocketed the keys.
No sneaking away this time.
The quiet was somehow louder than the alarm, and I knew it was because of all the words—unspoken and not—swirling between us. I also knew that this wasn’t the time or the place. That this conversation shouldn’t be happening in the dark, on the street.
But…I couldn’t let this continue.
Couldn’t let her run and hurt any longer.
“I like you.”
