And I actually laugh out loud.
“What?” he says, a little sheepish.
“Nothing. I…”Be honest, she said.Be brutally honest.“I was a little nervous about tonight, and I may have practiced a little bit with my sister. This sounds so awkward right now.” Oh god, maybe I wasn’t supposed to bethishonest. I wring my hands and look out the window again.
“And the question that she asked me was, ‘Tell me a little bit about yourself.’ And I didn’t expect that that would actually be the question you’d ask.”
“No way,” he says with a chuckle. “Didn’t need to be that predictable, did I?”
Why is he so… disarming when he’s smiling?
“Right,” I say with a smile. “Alright. So, honestly?—”
Be honest, you’re marrying this man.
“I don’t live a very exciting life.” I sigh, shaking my head. “I like to be home. And when I’m home, I like to wear comfortable, familiar clothing. I don’t like…” I sigh and blow out a breath. “Getting dressed up and going to places. I don’t like crowds or noise or anything like that. When I’m home, I like to do puzzles. Intricate ones with lots of pieces. My mind works very quickly when it comes to patterns, and I piece things together. It needs to be a challenge for me to find it enjoyable.”
A challenge. Just like him.
“And I knit for pretty much the same reason,” I tell him quietly. “I like to listen to audiobooks while I knit. And thanks to my job, I maybe a tad obsessed with finances and investing and whatnot. So there you go. I’m sorry, it’s…not exciting.”
“There’s no need to apologize for?—”
The phone rings. The screen reads “Daire.”
Cavin curses and punches the screen.
“Hey. There’s an incident at St. Albert’s. Seamus needs you to go.”
Oh no.
No. Please no.
“Fuck,” Cavin mutters, already making a U-turn. “I’m sorry, I have to?—”
“Don’t.” The word comes out sharp, panicked. “Don’t take me there.”
He glances at me, his brow furrowed. “What?”
“St. Albert’s. I can’t—” My chest tightens. I can’t breathe properly. “Just take me home. Please.”
I grip the door handle like I might jump out of the moving car. He pulls over to the side of the road and turns to face me fully.
“What’s wrong?”
Everything. Everything is wrong.
That place. Those hallways. The lockers where they’d corner me. The classrooms where he’d laugh. The bathroom where they?—
“Erin.” His voice is gentle, confused. “Talk to me.”
“That’s where…” I can’t finish. My throat closes up.
Understanding dawns across his face, followed immediately by something that looks like horror. “Christ,” he breathes out. “That’s where we… where I…”
“Where you tormented me,” I finish in a whisper. “Where I spent every day terrified and hid in the library during lunch because it was the only place your friends wouldn’t find me.”
Where I learned what it felt like to be both invisible and hypervisible at the same time.
