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That night is still there, in my head, in my soul, invading my thoughts, compromising my own self-hatred just because he thought I was worth whatever he did.

I tighten my grip on my pen without noticing.

He keeps talking, and I keep thinking, without meaning to…I think I like him.

And I don’t know what to do with how easy it feels.

Because it has never been easy. I never even knew what easy meant. Nothing that came without a cost ever lasted.

The day passed, Ethan and Hayzel kept talking to me, and I kept pretending that everything was okay. Then I went back to my dorm and that’s when my phone vibrated.

Library: Meet me outside, we’re going to the amusement park.

I read it, and reread it as Blue kept passing through my feet to welcome me back. And I smiled without stopping.

I do like him.

73

Mireya

Play - Close To You by Zach Webb

Just you and I

I said yes. I got ready and tried to cover the signs of not sleeping properly. It didn’t really work. My face still looks like the tired version of myself.

I left Blue at Hayzel’s dorm after playing with him. She was studying for our exams next week and barely looked up when I said I just needed fresh air.

I didn’t say the rest, didn’t even think about saying it. Because the truth is sounding wrong. I’m meeting our professor for no reason other than need.

The same one who held me during one of the worst nights I can remember. And now I’m going to an amusement park with him. It doesn’t connect properly in my head.

Hayzel didn’t even ask any questions, she grabbed Blue’s cat, nodded and said: “Just go, you’re distracting me and I have my nephew to take care of.”

He’s already there by the time I arrive, leaning slightly against the car. There’s a cigarette between his fingers. Behind him the sea catches what’s left of the sun, everything turning blue at the edges with the cliff dropping away like the world is ending behind him.

I slow down without meaning to. It feels obvious that I’ve noticed him before he’s said anything.

He sees me and straightens a little, pushes off the car, opens the passenger door before I reach it in silence, and then I get in.

When he gets in on his side, I can’t stop noticing how strange this feels. I’ve been in this car before. Too many times to count. But, It hasn’t felt like this before. He doesn’t talk right away. He starts driving, the engine settling into movement, music playing low in the background, a song I recognize and love.

The road follows the edge of the coast for a while. I keep looking out the window longer than I need to because looking at him feels like a decision I shouldn’t keep making.

At some point I realize I’ve been watching his hand on the steering wheel. The small corrections when he turns, the ease of it.

I speak then, and break the silence between us, “Why do you want me to go there with you?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. He changes lanes, checks the mirror, waits for space in traffic, then exhales once like the answer was already there and he’s just deciding how much of it to say. “I want to make memories with you.” I don’t respond straight away because I don’t know where to put that sentence in my head. After a moment he adds, still looking forward, “New ones, so they can outweigh the old ones.”

I shift in my seat, and the movement brings his arm closer for a second when he adjusts gears.

A laugh slips out before I can stop it. “I don’t know if it works like that,” I say softly. “Part of me still waits to be blamed for things I didn’t do.”

He glances at me for the first time since we left the campus.

“You’re not being blamed,” he says.