Mom never wanted me. And, clearly, my sister likes the idea of being an only child.
The tears dry on my face. My breathing is steady. My hands, which have been shaking for three days, are perfectly still.
I reach for my sketchbook, the good one, with the thick paper that drinks graphite. I find a pencil, cross my legs on the bed, then prop the book against my knee.
I open to a fresh page and start drawing. I know exactly what I want to make because my thoughts are finally clear. I’m clear because I’ve stopped fighting what I’ve always known.
Nobody wants me here.
So why stay?
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
JUNE
Dorien’s mouth is on mine and I’m going to be late for class. The clock on his nightstand already says 8:47, and my first lecture is at ten, and I haven’t even gone home to grab my backpack. But his hand is on the small of my back and his body is warm against mine in the open doorway of his dorm room, and I genuinelycannotmake my legs carry me away from this boy.
“I have to go,” I say against his lips.
He kisses me again instead of answering. I think I’m about to melt.
I slept here last night, curled against him on that narrow twin bed with my face pressed into his neck, and I slept so deeply I didn’t even dream. I never sleep without dreaming. We spent the morning tangled together too, his fingers tracing patterns on my arm while I watched the light change on his ceiling from cool grey to gold. I could’ve stayed the entire day.
“Dorien.” I push his chest lightly. “I really need to get ready for class.”
He catches my wrist and pulls me back, kissing the corner of my mouth, my jaw, then the spot below my ear that makes my knees unreliable.
A group of students passes behind us and someone lets out a long whistle. Someone else goes, “Get it, Dorien!”
“Oh my god,” I breathe and tuck my face into Dorien’s chest, which is shaking because he’s laughing.
“I hate you,” I mumble into his shirt.
“You don’t.” He’s still laughing.
I push him back with both palms flat on his stomach. “I really need to get ready for class. For real this time.”
He lets me step back but keeps one hand on my hip. The laughter fades and he studies me with those coppery hazel eyes that destroy my ability to make responsible decisions.
“I need to focus on some assignments,” he says. “Finals, end-of-semester projects. I might not see you again until Thanksgiving next week. Just wanted to get as much of you as I could to make it through the days apart.”
Damn, why does he have to say such beautiful things?
He grins as I pull him down for another long kiss. A week without him sounds impossibly long, and I’ve only been with him for, what, a little over a week? This is mortifying. This is the kind of clinginess I’d roast someone else for. But the thought of going days without touching him makes my body hurt.
“It sucks, but I need to focus on schoolwork too,” I say. “I’m excited for the holiday weekend. You could stay at my house.”
His eyebrows lift. “Your mom won’t mind?”
“Please.” I grin. “She’ll be so excited she won’t know what to do with herself.”
He kisses me so deeply it leaves an imprint on my entire nervous system. “See you then.”
I take a painful step back. “Bye.”
“Wait.”
I turn around.
