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I swallow.
“Just the one bottle or…”
“Shut up.”
He laughs again, and I grasp it like a treasure. Like a message in a bottle. In the limited time I’ve spent around him, I’ve decided Liam isn’t the type of guy who laughs when he doesn’t mean it. His laugh isn’t mocking. It isn’t a placeholder. And coming from a guy who showcases seriousness like it’s a trending style, it means more than it would coming from anyone else.
I smile. It slides off my face slowly, the longer we both stay silent. “I think I do the same thing you do,” I say. “Test my control with addiction. Except, I drink a lot at once and then I don’t drink anything at all. Just to prove I can.”
More silence stretches on his side. “I wanted to call you as soon as I got back to Glenmont,” Liam tells me. “But I’m leaving for Arlington next Sunday. I didn’t want you to think I was just…you know.”
“Right. You could get that anywhere.”
“I haven’t been.” Those three words are quiet, but they pack a wallop.
I’m not sure why it matters to me, knowing I’m still the only girl Liam has ever had sex with. Monogamy has never been an appealing concept to me. Maybe it was spending my formative years knowing my father spent more time with his rotating door of secretaries than his wife.
But I’m possessive over Liam. I’m not sure there’s another way to describe the burning sensation in the center of my chest.
“I’m free tomorrow, after two-thirty.”
“You teaching a class?”
I play with a stray thread on the comforter. “Uh, no. I’m going to visit my mom.”
“Visit?”
“Yeah. My dad came home. Sent her to a treatment facility.”
“Wow.”
“Yep.”
“You wanna talk about it?”
“Not now. Maybe tomorrow? If you’re free?”
“Yeah, I can do tomorrow. Afternoon is perfect, actually. I’m working in the morning.”
There’s an awkward pause, where we both know we need to decide where to meet, but realize options are extremely limited.
“I’ll text you an address,” he finally says.
“Okay.”
Then there’s another lingering pause. I can hear his breathing. The exhales and inhales are soothing. Rhythmic. I close my eyes.
Something about Liam feels solid and safe. Like I can rely upon him, when the reality is the exact opposite.
“I’m glad you called.” His voice is soft. It sounds like he’s talking to a scared animal.
And I realize it’s because heknows. Liam appreciates what it took for me to call him, what that decision signifies.
I panic.
I say, “See you tomorrow,” and hang up the phone, tossing it clear to the end of my bed—as far away from me as possible.
Accepting you have an investment is different from someone else acknowledging it.
