He lets out a whimpery noise.
I pull back as if to get a look at his face, even though I can’t see anything. “Did I freak you out? We can stop talking about this. Forget I said anything.”
“It’s not that. I…I want…” he sighs. “I’ve thought about it. Of course I have. And…”
“What is it?”
He’s quiet for a long time. I reach out and run a hand down the side of his face. “Hey,” I murmur. “What is it?”
I feel him shake his head.
“You can tell me. You can tell me anything.”
“I think…” he swallows. He’s been doing a lot of that today — pauses, hesitations, trailing off. Something’s weighing on his mind, but whatever it is, I’ll help him with it. I’ll be there for him.
“I think we should stop meeting each other,” he says.
At first, I think I’ve misheard him. I even laugh. “What?”
“I think we should stop meeting each other,” he repeats. “Stop hooking up, stop calling, stop writing letters or emails.”
Frost spreads from the hand cupping his face to the rest of my body, turning my heart into shattered ice in the process.
I snatch my hand off him and push myself halfway across the bed so I’m no longer touching him at all.
“W-w-” I can’t even manage words. I bite down on my tongue, hard enough to hurt, and force myself to get a grip. “What are you talking about?”
He exhales. Is hesighing? Is heexasperatedat me?
“I think we —”
“I heard you,” I interrupt, not wanting to hear him repeat it for the third time. “I…I’m shocked. This came out of nowhere. A second ago, everything was fine.” A thought strikes me. “Is this because I brought up anal? Because forget I said that, really —”
“It’s not that.” His tone is gentle, and I think it’d be better if he were angry. “I just think that this isn’t good for us.”
“Isn’t good for us?” I echo. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? Is sex a sin all of a sudden? You were having a good time five minutes ago, talking about how you might come in your jocks, and now —”
“It’s not the sex. Trust me, it’s not that at all.” There’s an urgency in his voice, begging me to listen, to understand. “Think about this rationally.”
I might actually slap him. He’s asking me to think about this rationally? Like it’s a maths problem we can solve neatly? I stopped thinking about this rationally ages ago. Months ago.
“This isn’t going to last,” he says calmly as if he’s rehearsed a whole speech. Oh god, was he planning this the whole time? Ever since he started acting distant? “The end of Year 12 is coming up, along with exams. We’re both going to move away. And sneaking around to meet each other is risky. It’s lucky no one has caught us. We can’t meet at school anymore, anyway. Where else would we meet? Parties? In our first conversation, we said we weren’t party types.”
“I’d go to them for you.”And you said you’d to them for me.My voice is pathetically small.
“It’s better to end this now,” he continues, as if he didn’t hear me. “Now, before we’re too attached and get hurt.”
All of my anger evaporates, leaving me deflated. “I’m already attached,” I say. “I already like you so, so much. You’re the only one here who gets me. My only real friend in this whole town. Please.” I blink hard. God, I’m pleading. I know I should keep myhead high and pretend I couldn’t care less, but I can’t. Screw my dignity. “Please. Don’t leave me.”
“I’m sorry.” There’s a waver to his voice. At least he has the grace to sound guilty. But still. How is hemyR? “It’s for the best.”
My throat is clogged up, and I gulp down a breath. Be strategic, Jude. Be smart. There must be a way to convince him otherwise.
“Please. Please. I know I sound pathetic and ridiculous but…but you’re the only thing that’s…you’re what I look forward to and…please reconsider…I’ll do anything you want—”
Strategic? Smart? Intelligent? Yeah right. I’m begging like a child, and somehow, I can’t find it in myself to care. I don’t care how stupid and insane and clingy I look because now that I’m faced with the prospect of him leaving, I’m desperate to keep him. I used to feel so alone.
He brushes my hand. A kernel of anger inside me makes me want to slap him away. Most of me wants to lean into the touch.
