Unable to bear the broken look on his face, I look up at the ceiling, blinking back tears. I will not cry. Crying will make it too real. “I just…I don’t really want to think about it, you know? But, um, I wanted you to know. So there. When I, um, freaked out on Friday, it wasn’t because of you.”
“Ivy.” When I meet his eyes, they’re shining with unshed tears. His hands twitch against his lap, like he wants to reach out and touch me but thinks better of it. My heart gives a sharp pang. After Friday, I don’t blame him. “I don’t know what to say,” he murmurs. “There’s nothing I can say. I’m so sorry.”
I have to look away, or I’m going to completely lose it, so I drop my eyes to the center of his chest. I picture his heart beating in synchronicity with mine,thud thump, thud thump, thud thump,and for some reason, that’s a comfort.
“It’s okay,” I whisper, almost to myself. “It’s okay.”
My eyes lift, watching his throat bob as he swallows. “I thought maybe…I thought you might have been triggered by something, but I didn’t know how to ask. I didn’t think it was a good idea. I was worried I’d say the wrong thing. Do the wrong thing and make it worse.”
I nod once. I nod twice. I keep nodding, this time unable to stop the tears welling in the corners of my eyes. I avert my gaze to the ceiling again and blink them back because it’s pretty freaking shattering to have someone suspect that you weretriggered.To know they had to imagine what you must have experienced in your past that would wrench that kind of fear, anger, and panic from a person so suddenly and with such violence.
“It’s okay,” I say again, the question I’m most afraid to ask hovering at the back of my throat. It takes a couple tries to get it out right. “D-does this change things?”
“You mean between us?” I nod and attempt a watery smile. It wobbles down into a frown as I wonder,are we different now? Have I tainted us?Wes leans across the space between us, gently taking my hand in both of his. His eyes swim with an emotion I can’t put my finger on, but that comforts me nonetheless. “No, Ivy. It changes nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing.”
I’m trying really hard now not to cry, and my voice comes out as a squeak. “So, we’re still best friends?”
“Come here,” he says, tugging me out of the office chair. He pulls me close so I’m standing between his parted thighs, both my hands grasped in his. Our foreheads bend together as his eyes bore into mine. “Ives, we are the best fucking friends this world has ever seen. We’re bulletproof, baby. Think about it. Think about what we’ve been up against so far.”
“What do you mean?” I whisper.
“Public Speaking. A crazy frat party. Online rumors. My ex, on multiple occasions. A black eye. A snowstorm. Jealous roommates. Your twin bed.” I crack a smile at that. “What else am I missing? Oh yeah. The Star Wars Prequels. Our friendshipdefinitelycould have ended over the decision to rewatch those.”
“It was your idea.”
“It was a bad one. But we’re still here, aren’t we? So if you think for a second that something you confided in me about your past is going to changeanything, think again. I’m afraid you might be stuck with me.”
Still standing between his legs, I wrap my arms around his neck, hugging him tight. His arms envelop my back, pulling me to him, and I lean into the safety of his body as his hands stroke up and down my spine. His kindness is overwhelming, and a few tears leak out as I press myself closer. Somehow, it’s still not close enough, and maybe that’s what makes me break down.
“Shh, it’s okay, sweetheart,” he murmurs, as I cry quietly into his neck. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
We stay like that for a long time, and one by one, my muscles relax. The tension seeps out of my body, and my tears slowly dry up. When I pull back from him and stand up straight, his hands fall to my hips, and he squeezes lightly. His eyes search mine when he asks, “Okay, what do you need? Pizza? Ice cream? Movie? I relinquish all control.”
I sigh, rubbing at my swollen eyes. “That all sounds great, but I really need to study. I haven’t been able to focus, and I have an exam tomorrow.”
Wes nods, not missing a beat. “Sunday night study sesh it is. Let’s stock up on supplies downstairs. We just did a grocery run and Ben made brownies. Extra fudgy. Chocolate icing on top. They’re irresistible and exactly what you need.”
My stomach growls at his description. I’ve barely been able to eat the past couple days. “That sounds good.”
Taking my hand, he leads me out of his room and down the stairs to the kitchen. He never once lets go of it. Not while he pulls snacks down from the cabinets. Not while he makes up a plate of brownies. He even rips paper towels off the roll using his teeth in place of his left hand.
Ben, who’s watching TV in the living room, glances up as we raid the kitchen. “Oh, good. You guys made up. Doc’s been moping around this place like someone just told him Santa wasn’t real. I thought I was going to have to hide all the sharp objects.”
I glance at Wes, who just shrugs and says, “I’m a mess without you.”
If only he knew how much I’ve cried over the past few days. I squeeze his hand and tell him, “Me, too.”
Sitting on Wes’s bed, trying to cram as many Art History facts as possible into my head, I feel relief, yes, but also something else. Something less pleasant buzzing at the back of my brain, weaving tendrils of doubt through my chest and heart and stomach. Telling me that I’ve dealt with the present, but not with the past. I put a band-aid over a bullet-hole, and it’s only a matter of time before the blood seeps through.
I don’t want to believe it. I won’t believe it. So long as I’m with Wes, here in the moment, everything will be okay. Hemakeseverything okay. There will be no more freak outs. No more breakdowns. No more stress dreams or panic attacks. I told him about my past, and now I can move on.
How can you move on when you can’t even say the word aloud?
I don’t have to say it aloud. I don’t have to face the memory.
It’s locked away again, back where it belongs.
Now I just need to keep it there.
