I showed him that spot the other night.
That night.
He actually carried me to that spot.After. In the rain.
Like I was his doll or something.
And I held on to him like I’d never let go. I burrowed my nose in the side of his neck, in the triangle of his throat, trying to fill my lungs with his scent for the last time.
He kept smelling me too, pressing his hot mouth on my forehead, breathing me in and breathing out.
I want to do that right now.
Jump into his arms so he carries me. Rub my nose in his hoodie, smell him, have him smell me.
Kiss me.
But I stay put as my stomach churns.
As I watch Reed march over to the fence, that I can only partially see through the trees.
As I feel dizzy.
Pressing my spine to the tree to keep my balance, I put a hand on my stomach and God, it feels so warm.
I don’t remember my belly ever being so heated.
Why is it so hot?
But I don’t have the time to think about it right now because he’s come to a stop. Right at the spot in the fence where I asked him to let me down and where he watched me scale it and leave him to go back to my dorm.
Like he was really my Romeo and I was really his Juliet, sneaking back to my room.
In this moment, my Romeo is watching the fence, running his hands through his hair. His shoulders and back are shifting with what I think are agitated breaths and his stance is wide, battle-ready. As if he’s going to tear the fence apart, take it down brick by brick, demolish it, all with those hands that are messing up his overly-long hair.
My belly lurches and churns and bile rises up my throat.
And oh my God, I think I’m gonna throw up.
I think…
Reed turns around then and looks in my direction, or rather where I’m hiding.
And quickly, I duck even more behind the tree.
I clench my eyes shut, put a hand on my mouth to muffle the sounds of my breaths. The hand that’s on my stomach, I press it even more as if I’m trying to stop whatever the heck is going on inside my body.
Whatever the heck makes me want to throw up right now and all the time, and that repels bacon and coffee and that makes me…
Wait a second.
Just wait a freaking second.
I’m throwing up all the time. I’m tired and I’m depressed and I smell everything and everything makes me nauseous.
And I can’t remember the last time I had my period and wasn’t I supposed to get a period a few days ago?
But maybe that’s fine. Maybe I’m just a little late.
