Page 79 of Forget About Me

Sex with Lucy is changing me. Like, literally. I think it started that summer when we were together, but now, every time I’m skin to skin with her, I become more myself, like I’ve been stuck in this passive, go-along-to-get-along mindset since… well, maybe since my mom died. Definitely since my grandma died. My dad was hurting so much and so overwhelmed I just didn’t want to make things worse. Even with the Minolas, I thought that the only way I could hang on to my spot in their family was to be invisible and hope no one noticed I’d wormed my way in. Modeling, too. I didn’t go after it. It happened to me.

But when Lucy looks at me like I’m her world, I feel like I’m taking up the right amount of space. Not the space of a nine-year-old kid. That of a twenty-eight-year old man.

My fingers play through Lucy’s curls as a slide show of the past day plays through my mind—hours of making people laugh topped off with sex so good that I’ll do anything to keep this woman by my side—until she mumbles something into my ribcage.

My hand stills. “Did you say something?”

She rolls away from me slightly, her brow furrowed. “I said, why would I be mad at you?”

“I… don’t know?”

“Bella said something about me being mad at you.”

My heartbeat pounds in my ears.Shit.I take a deep breath, blow it out slowly.Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Like she was surprised I was there and that things were good with us.”

So much for finding the perfect time to tell her.“Well, there is something—a thing I need to tell you. Have needed to tell you. For a long time, but—but I’ve been too chickenshit to do it.” It’s like I’m being squeezed back into nine-year-old me again. But I can’t. I can’t just give up. I need to stand up.

She scoots away from me and sits up, taking the sheet with her. “Why would Bella know about it, then?”

I sit up too and get ready to give it all I’ve got. “Well, I told her because?—?”

“Why would you do that? Is something going on with you two?”

“What? No. Jesus. Lucy. How could I—?” I gesture to the space between us, the disheveled bed. “How could I be here with you and even think about anyone else?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t understand why you’d tell her something you need to tell me.”

“It’s nothing like that. It’s… it’s about the day Tony died.”

She stills. “Why would you eventalkto her about that?”

“Because—?” Now that I’ve started I can’t stop. “I needed the practice.” Saying this out loud sounds so, so stupid, but I power on. “I was afraid that if I did it wrong, you’d never forgive me. So I practiced on a couple people.”

“A couple people? What, did you tell Jessica, too? Your Juliet that you spent all summer practically fucking onstage?”

“No—and Lucy, come on, that’s my job. It’s pretend.”

“Who else did you tell then?”

“Uh, my dad and your mom.”

“My mom? You’re more afraid of me than you are of my mom?”

“It’s not that I’m afraid of you, Lucy. That’s not it at all. Oh man, I’m doing it wrong. Not quite ready for opening night, I guess.”

“I don’t see how this is funny.”

“Sorry. It’s not. I know it’s not.”

“So, what is it? What are you so afraid to tell me?”

She’s so beautiful in this moment, even as anger flashes over her face.

“The accident. The car. With Tony. It was my fault.”

“What? What are you talking about? Did you get the guy drunk and give him his keys?”

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