He groans but releases me.I lean over the bed to the floor and slide his inhaler from his jeans pocket.He takes a quick puff and shakes his head, staring at the plastic and metal device in his hand.
“I don’t usually need it this much,” he tells me, as if ashamed.
“The air quality today is 61, moderate range,” I report, lying on my side.“It’s normal to have?—”
“Venus, it’s not the air quality.Not entirely.It’s emotional these days.You run away with your big feelings.I can’t breathe with mine.”
“Then, you understand me.”My words go unanswered, making me wonder if I said something wrong.I sit up, unsure what to do.“I’m sorry.Do you want me to go?”
He gives me a funny look.“You said one night—I want awholenight.I want to make you come as many times as you’ll let me.”
“Yes, please.”
And, we do.We lay on his bed for a while, talking about nothing in particular and staying away from the two very different worlds awaiting us outside this room.We reminisce, good memories only, and we cuddle, listening to music and playing with each other’s hair.We have sex again.And again.We raid his fridge and binge on juice boxes and apple slices.Then, I come undone for him again, and again, and again.
When it’s very late, and we’re very tired, we get comfortable on his bed.I roll on my side, staring out at the bridge lights through his window, and he curls up behind me, nesting perfectly against my body, just like we used to do.His arms tighten around me, giving me the pressure he knows I like and often need.
And all I can do is cry.He’s done exactly as I asked—he ruined me.
CHAPTER15
Henry
She tries to hide it,but I know she’s crying.She makes no sound, only I feel the slight tremor of her sobs against my chest.I understand, but all I can do is hold her closer.Venus Blake is having big feelings.
So, am I.
Her vulnerability, her body, her beauty, everything about this night has been incredible.Mind-blowing, even.I never knew it could bethisgood.And she stayed, despite her feelings and the endless tugs by her impulse-prone puppeteer.She fought it all.For me.
That’s how it’s always been with us.She’s the fighter.And until she left, I was the beneficiary of her wins.My long-held anger drifts away as I hold her.As is often the case with anger, it stemmed from a misunderstanding.I thought I was the blameless victim of her coldness and impulsivity.But her leaving was my fault, too.I pushed for us to go to UNC-Chapel Hill together.I believed, for once, that I’d be the hero who would save her at college by being the voice of reason when she needed it and holding her at night.I arrogantly thought that I’d be enough to turn college into a dream when the rest of her education had been a nightmare.I held myself in such fucking high esteem for it, too—taking her with me—when really, I just wanted her for myself and needed her to make me brave.I wasn’t her hero—I was a selfish coward.God, she must’ve been under so much unbearable pressure.Pressure I caused.
I’m the asshole.
For trying to push her into the life I wanted, like everyone else had.
For failing to understand therealher.
But I want to.Not just what she’s told me or what we’ve done, butallof her.I want tounderstandVenus Blake the way she understands the inner workings of flowers, to make up for not really knowing her then.
Only, my wants and feelings don’t matter after tonight.She’ll disappear once she’s done with her obligatory summer.I’ll resume my settled existence.And we’ll both get to see if her experiment—and yes, it was an experiment—truly worked.
But I already know it hasn’t.It’s impossible to get her out of my system.Our confusing, frustrating, sad, and intoxicatingly beautiful night has only solidified what I already know—my heart belongs to Venus.
A gentle sob catches in her sigh, like she might be reaching the same conclusion, and my arms tighten.“It’s okay.I’m here.We’re together.Everything’s okay,” I whisper, like we used to when we were young.
But my words feel empty.
I want to roll her over and kiss her tears away.To clamp down on the tiniest bit of hope for us, like a flytrap would a bug.But there’s no happy ending here.Not for the fly.Not for us.
So, maybe it’s best to let the tears flow, I decide as one travels over my nose and into her hair.
She falls asleep—I can almost pinpoint the exact moment by the familiar gentleness in her breathing and the subtle, final release of her tension.It’s like she melts against me.In her quiet, I find mine, slipping into a deep sleep.
When I wake, I feel ridiculously energized, like I’ve slept for days in mere hours.I think to stir her with soft kisses and engage in another round—I could never have enough of her—but she sleeps so peacefully that I don’t want to disturb her.So, I slowly ease out from behind her with the same careful precision I use with Olly, and I close the door to the bedroom.
In the open living room and kitchen, I find Uncle Jay’s wooden blue jay on my desk, atop the annotated paper from Mrs.Kwon.She was right—Buttercup’s story isn’t finished.
Or at least, I’m not finished with her.
