I wait, and wait, and still, she says nothing.
“Iwhat? Thiswhat?”
Finally, she sighs. Meets my eyes. “You were my first kiss.”
Eleven
I could’ve spent years trying to figure out what she was about to say to me, and I never would’ve gotten it right.
Never.
I’m beyond stunned. Beyond dumbfounded.
And all I can come up with is—
“You’re lying.”
She shakes her head.
“But—”
She keeps shaking her head.
“I don’t understand.”
“I like you,” she says quietly. “A lot.”
Something flashes through me—something terrifying. A rush of feeling. A lick of fire.Joy.And then denial, denial, fast and hard.
“Bullshit.”
“Not bullshit,” she whispers.
“But you’ve been trying to kill me.”
“No.” She hangs her head. “I’ve been trying to show you I care.”
I can only stare at her, bewildered.
“I gave you a slightly stronger dose of that drug because I was so worried you’d wake up on the plane and get yourselfmurdered,” she says. “I was in your room tonight because I wanted to make sure you were okay, but when you woke up I got nervous and disappeared. And then you started talking, and the things you said were so beautiful that I just”—she shakes her head—“I don’t know. The truth is, I don’t have an excuse. I stayed because I wanted to stay. I stayed and I watched you like a creep, and when you caught me I was so mortified I nearly killed you for it.”
She covers her face with her hands.
“I have no idea what I’m doing,” she says, her words so small and quiet I have to step closer to hear them. “I’ve been prepared for literally every single other high-stress situation life can throw my way, but I have no idea how to properly reciprocate positive emotion. I was never shown how. Never taught how to do it. And, as a result, I’ve avoided it altogether.”
Finally, she meets my eyes.
“I’ve always avoided doing things I know I’ll be bad at,” she says. “And with this— Relationships? Physical intimacy? I just... don’t. Ever. With anyone. It’s too messy. Too confusing. There’s too much code, too much garbage to filter and decipher. Besides, most of the people I meet are either assholes or cowards or both. They’re rarely genuine. They never say what they’re really thinking. And they all lie to my face.” She sighs. “Except for you, of course.”
“Nazeera—”
“Please,” she says softly. “This is so humiliating. And if it’s all right with you, I really don’t want to drag thisconversation out any more than I absolutely have to. But I swear—after today—I won’t come near you again. I’ll keep my distance. I promise. I’m so sorry I hurt you. I never meant to kick you that hard.”
And she leaves.
She turns on her heel and stalks off, and I’m seized by something, something that feels a lot like panic when I say—
“Wait!”
