I lean back against his knees and glare at him. “And how about now?”
I watch as his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard.
“It’s important.”
“Why?” I question.
“Because I like you,” he states, and I freeze at his boldness.
Thinking he likes me is one thing, but him actually saying it out loud with determination is different. It makes it more real.
“Why do you think I bought that stupid book? You think I enjoy reading?” His finger pushes my chin, making my eyes meet his. “I did it because I wanted to spend more time with you.”
This is too much. He’s leaving soon. My heart can’t handle more pain.
“You’re never this quiet,” he notes.
“I just don’t know what to say.”
He pulls me tighter into his chest. “Let’s just see where this goes. Now that you’re in my arms, I don’t want to let you go.”
I shake my head, and he frowns.
“Why not?”
“If you want to try this out, I need to know more about you.”
“Ask.”
“No, you tell” I demand.
He needs to be open with me. I told him about myself. Now, it’s his turn. How can we form a relationship when I know nothing about him? I need to know he trusts me. A relationship without trust is like boxing with one hand behind your back.
I watch as he bites his lip and sighs. I frown and immediately feel guilty when I see in his eyes the battle he’s going through. When he places his hands on my hips, they shake slightly.
“I’m nineteen, born and raised in LA. I’ve always struggled with myself. I get anxious a lot. My favorite color is black. I used to have a pet dog named Charlie, but he died a while ago. My favorite food is pasta. I don’t really have friends. The only people I really hang out with are my siblings and you. I hate people. They’re so annoying. I have anger issues, and it controls me most of the time. I love going on adventures. I have trust issues, but when I let someone in, I love them with everything I have.”
As he speaks, he focuses on the ceiling above us. His voice is like poetry. I sit in my spot on his lap and listen intently to him.
“I hate my dad. He doesn’t love me for who I am. He just likes me for what I am. He’s always working, and he’s a shit husband to my mom. She’s trying so hard to divorce him, but he’s fighting it. Many people take advantage of me, so maybe that’s why I don’t let people in. I get nightmares at night, I hate the color green, and I love playing basketball,” he finishes, lost in thought and almost out of breath.
I stare at him, shocked. That’s a lot of random information to take in. But what makes my blood turn cold is when I look into his eyes and find tears in them.
“And I fucking hate myself. I don’t know who I am. Everyone else does, but I don’t even understand myself.” His voice cracks, and he shuts his eyes tightly. He lets out a cuss and bites his quivering lip. “I wake up every night from memories I wish I could bury. But no matter what I do, they keep coming. I go insane. When I try to escape those visuals and thoughts by sleeping, they just slam into me harder. They feel so real,” he stammers out, panicked. “Then, everyone around me expects me to act perfect. I’m never allowed to mess up. I’m sick of living for the world, Trinity, but if I don’t, what do I have left?”
I knew he had nightmares. I prayed it didn’t happen regularly; however, it seems as if his nightmares control him. Leonidas is lost, a walking body that believes he has no purpose in the life God gave him. I won’t push him for answers until he’s ready. I understand how it feels to talk without being ready.
“Leonidas, you’re asking the wrong girl. Every day, I live and secretly hope it’s my last.”
He stills under me.
“My old life looks like a dream right now. I dream of waking up in the morning and being happy to be awake. I forget the feeling of being excited about doing something. I hate everything I once loved.” My fingertip trails along his bare arm as I let my depressing thoughts consume me. “I’m tired of stashing tissues in my pockets because I know I’ll need them later. I want to smile a genuine smile. I don’t want to be fake anymore. Life is a joke. But I don’t give up for my dad because I know that would sadden him. I would let him down, and that’s what scares me.” I pause when my voice cracks with emotion. “So, whenever I get these feelings, which is every day, I think about what I want to accomplish in my life.”
I grip his cheeks in my hands and meet his teary eyes with my own. “We’re living in the past. It’s time we both live right here, right now, together.”
“You and me?” he says as a single tear trails down his left cheek.
I nod and kiss the skin above his heart. “You and me.”
