I want to tell her that I adore her, that she is my everything. I want to tell her how utterly precious she is to me, and the knowledge that she’d been assaulted, that something she loved was destroyed out of petty violence, is abhorrent to me. That I have this need to cuddle her up and protect her from the world. I want to tell her so many things that it gets jumbled and caught in my throat. And all I manage to say is her name. Over and over. Like it’s a prayer. Benediction. Salvation. Mine.
Thirty-Three
Pen
August tries his best not to be upset about my assault and bike. But in some ways, I know it haunts him more than it does me. While I’m mostly angry when I think about it, he’s afraid for me and guilt ridden. The guilt intensifies when I tell him I’m going to finish off the semester with remote learning.
“It’s your last month in college,” he says, visibly distressed. “You should be able to enjoy it to the fullest.”
“August, you need to believe me when I say I’m not in the least upset about not going to class. Not everyone has the same college experience. For you, it was a whirlwind of football, parties, and fun—”
“Not all fun,” he mutters, pulling me onto his lap like he needs the physical contact. “A lot of it was stressful as hell.”
“You’re right. I shouldn’t have implied it wasn’t.”
“No.” He huffs out a dry laugh. “It was a pretty accurate assessment, all in all.”
“I only meant that, for me, college has always felt more like a job. I went to class, did the work, and that’s about it. I never joined teams or clubs, never really partied.”
August frowns, tracing the curve of my neck in concern. “Did you want to?”
“I don’t know. I think if I did, I would have. It just wasn’t me. Not really.” I rub his broad chest with slow strokes; turnsout I constantly need to touch him too. “I don’t have regrets. I am who I am.”
“I like who you are too,” he whispers against the crown of my head. “I like it so much, Penelope.”
Those words sink into my heart and grab hold. I find myself taking his hand and placing a kiss in the center of his wide palm. My heart squeezes harder when he makes a fist as though clutching that kiss close.
“There’s only a few weeks left,” I whisper back. “I won’t miss anything by going remotely.”
Four days after the incident, August surprised me with my bike, completely restored and a custom riding jacket with armor that’s also light, breathable, and fits my curves like a glove.
I’ll sleep easier knowing my girl is protected when she rides, he’d told me when I tackled him with kisses.
MayDay:So who’s ready to par-tay on the big boat besides me?
MadMarch:Is that Speed 2. God. No. May. Why? Just why?
JuneBug:I thought we agreed that movie didn’t happen! Annie sped off with Keanu into the LA sunset! END OF STORY!!!
MayDay:You two wouldn’t know good cinema if it bit you on the ass
No1Luck:your taste is dubious at best, MayDay. And my boat is not big enough for a party
MadMarch:that’s what she said
No1Luck:Keep talking, Michael Scott. See what happens.
MayDay:Ooh, what happens? I wanna see!
RcktMan:Will it be like the time Jan made March slap himself? Cuz that was awesome
MadMarch:shut it you! Remember the FROG?
RcktMan:Right. Jan’s a dick. And who the fuck named me in this chat? MARCH!
MadMarch:Why you coming after me? I want to give the person a beer for that one
RcktMan:fuckos
