“Need help walking over this gravel?” he asked. “It gets a little hairy the closer we get to the sand. And, well, you’ve proven to be delicate.”
“Nice try, but you’re not going to get another excuse to touch me today. Sorry, I know you were looking forward to it now that you’ve got a taste.”
“No worries. I’m sure you’ll come up with something for me soon enough.”
“Always piggybacking off my labor,” I teased. “You know, post-college, you’ll have to do your own work. I’m not going to be around to offer you lecture notes.”
“From experience, I know if I ask the right way, you’ll give them to me anyway.”
My expression darkened at the mention of how easy it’d become for him to get what he wanted from me. “I’ll be thousands of miles away. No matter how much you ask, I won’t hear you.”
“Going somewhere phones don’t work?”
“Nope, just losing your number. I’ve had my share of David Evans. Enough for a lifetime.”
He stepped closer, making the air between us dense with his warmth. “I’d like to see you try to stay away from me.”
“Is that a dare?” I cocked my brow.
“Oh, wouldn’t that be interesting?” he said, pausing for a second as if he was actually considering. “It is my turn, after all.”
I swallowed when he moved even closer. His water bottle grazed the back of my hand. I didn’t dislike the chill; it was a strange sort of connection to him. The cold was disconcerting and tempting at the same time… like David. He was an arrogant man whom I knew I shouldn’t want to touch again, and yet, I still couldn’t seem to stop picturing it.
“So?” I asked, realizing that if he did this dare, it could be the end of this. And part of me pre-maturely mourned because we hadn’t even figured out a name for us yet. Surely he’d want to stick around long enough to do that at least.
David's gaze scanned my face, and I knew he picked up on my concern. He sensed my dread. I cringed, bracing for him to use it, to point out that, yes, I indeed wanted this, and in some ways, I wanted him.
“Maybe later,” he said. “For now, I’m working on something a bit more entertaining. Since you plan on moving someplace unreachable by modern technology, I’ll have to take advantage of the present and get all the fun I can out of you.”
I tried not to sigh too loudly, to keep my face neutral as relief warmed my skin.
8
I wasthe youngest and shortest of my siblings. My toes were used to repetitive strain whenever I tried to make myself big enough to be seen in a crowd that was my sisters and a brother. Being surrounded by excellence was a privilege. Drowning in it was a byproduct.
As kids, we weren’t ever expected or encouraged to compete. Our parents were self-aware enough to refuse to compare. And yet, the side-by-side notes snuck into our lives anyway from outside sources. Impressing viewers through glass panes became a sport for me. Getting pats on the back from my older siblings was my equivalent of the Olympics. I would pole vault, high dive, and butterfly my way to victory. It didn’t matter if I didn’t care for sports; it mattered that I fit in my family’s perfect puzzle. It mattered that I wasn’t the one who dropped a stitch in an otherwise perfect silky sweater.
I pushed through the pain of exhaustion to keep up. And I’d been doing so well up until senior year of high school because that was when shards of metal tore through bone.
My past mistake was a patchwork quilt, draped over my shoulders every time I slowed down for even a second, so I hadno choice but to keep moving. Maybe I could keep myself busy enough to forget my wrongdoing, or push myself hard enough to earn forgiveness. I allowed myself four hours of sleep before waking up to prepare for a student org meeting that could undo some of those patches. Maybe it could lighten some of the weight.
During a long day of classes, I slipped in and out of restrooms to stuff paper towels under my armpits. My breathing was shallow when I left the stall for the last time. Tonight, I was meeting with the president of the Black Student Union, the president of Women in Business, and the president of Minorities in STEM. It’d taken some hardcore convincing to get them all in one place at the same time. The window was small: thirty minutes. But I was determined to make this work. I needed to get them to work with me, and possibly convince them to pull a little more weight than I initially let on.
You can do this.I repeated the mantra to my reflection in the mirror. The plum purple on my lips had disappeared from all my coffee guzzling. I swiped on my lip gloss for a quick touch-up. My hair was still in decent shape, pulled into a high ponytail. The blush on my skin had long faded, leaving my brown skin looking a little lifeless. I searched through my purse, hoping to find something to liven up my complexion, but the only makeup I had besides my lipstick was mascara.
It’s going to be fine. You look as put-together as anyone could be this late.
The words didn’t provide much comfort as I exited the bathroom and moved down the hall. I tried to find shelter in them anyway because it was better than weathering the storm unarmed.
Turquoise carpeted floors and endless hallways filled the student center. The building had six floors, and the middle three housed meeting rooms. And tonight, every one of thoserooms was fully booked. Westbrooke ranked among the highest for on-campus activities nationwide. Since I couldn’t secure a booking in time, I’d asked the other to meet me at one of the tables in the hall.
I thought I’d calmed myself enough to come face-to-face with them, but as soon as I turned the corner and saw all three of them already at the table, my stomach dropped. I ducked behind the wall, pressing my back against the cold plaster as I tried to steady my breathing.
What’s wrong with you?
My chest had never been this heavy when talking to people. Talking was the place I thrived, where I could run circles around the best.
I let my hand find its way to my kitchen and gave myself permission to pick at the hair there for a couple of breaths. My phone buzzed in my bag, interrupting the unfolding panic attack. I pulled it out and saw David’s name flash on the screen. My sigh of relief left me conflicted. A David-shaped distraction was exactly what I needed. Seeing his name reminded me that there were more people on campus than the three I wanted to impress. But who was I becoming to find comfort in his interruption?
