She fell silent then and filled it with plucking at a thread that had come loose from the pillow between them. It made her look as if she were idly passing the time, rather than what she was really doing—debating whether or not to go a little deeper. He might not like it if she did. She certainly wouldn’t have.
But in the end she had to try. It was practically a compulsion. It made her gums ache and her palms sweat, though she knew why she couldn’t fight it. It would have been easier to wrestle with the waves on the ocean. It would have been easier to pluck people falling from a crashing plane out of the sky.
“Is that why you did what you did?”
She heard him sigh, but forced herself not to look. If she looked, she might get scared and try to run away from this conversation. And then the next she knew he’d be on the news in a coffin, being carried by people who turned him into a 1930s news reporter or thought his name was “you”.
“Are we there already?”
“We probably should have been last night. I should have called a doctor, and you should be in hospital now discussing this with someone who knows how to help you.”
It was true, but it sounded grimmer than she’d intended. He wasn’t dead, yet every bit of lightness and humor in their conversation suddenly was.
“I don’t think anyone knows how to help me.”
“I’m sure there must be someone who—”
“Though I’m starting to think you might.”
That jolted her. It jolted her so hard she almost turned to see if he was joking, but managed to save herself at the last minute. She focused on the thread instead—the one that she was now winding around her finger.Tighter, she thought,tighter, until there wasn’t a single drop of blood left inside it.
“You don’t even know me,” she said, and wasn’t that true? He didn’t even know her real name. He didn’t even know she wasn’t American.
“I know you saved my life. I know you trusted me when I shouldn’t have been trusted. I know you hugged me when I didn’t know I wanted to be hugged.” He paused just long enough for her to realize she wasn’t breathing. “You did it because you were glad I was alive, right?”
She couldn’t give the answer she wanted to—Yes, yes, a thousand times yes. It sounded stupid enough in her head and besides... She knew she would choke up if she said it. She couldn’t possibly choke up over someone she’d met yesterday. So she went with something simple and guarded, instead.
“Maybe I did. Maybe I did.”
“You know how good that feels? To know someone’s glad I’m alive?”
Not even a little bit. Not anymore.
“I think a lot of people feel that way about you, Holden. You should visit this place called Tumblr, sometime.”
He made a sound, caught midway between a laugh and a snort of frustration.
“It’s not the same. You didn’t do it because I’m a movie star.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because you don’t like that I’m a movie star.”
She couldn’t help the rueful smile that spread over her face, to hear that. Of course he was right—but wasn’t it brilliant that he was? Maybe it wasn’t so strange that they were connecting so fast, if he already knew her so well. He kept guessing all the things and she in turn found she could read him, so really where else could they be?
In a good friendship, she thought, frantically.
We’re just really, really good friends and that’s all.
“Very perceptive of you.”
“Thanks, but I can’t take any credit. It’s so obvious I kind of want to pretend I’m Bernard just so you don’t shy away so often, or look at everything but me.”
“I just don’t want you to think I’m gawking, like an idiot.”
“Honey, you do the opposite of gawking. You actively refuse to look.”
She swallowed thickly, before responding. “Sorry. That sounds awful.”
