Page 69 of Off Limits

So I head to the one place where life has always made sense, and I know exactly what I’m supposed to be doing.

The gym.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Ellie

I brush past Autumn in my rush to catch Simon, yanking a shirt on and running into the hallway. I’d scrambled into a pair of pants—my soft, flowy PJ pants, actually—the first thing my hand landed on when he started getting dressed. I’m not even sure what shirt I’m wearing, because I don’t care at all. All that matters is getting to Simon. Stopping him. Making him listen. Because what I said came out all wrong.

It’s not that Simon doesn’t matter, because if that were true then I wouldn’t be chasing after him, now would I?

It’s that Simon doesn’t judge me. He doesn’t care if I’m a nurse or a teacher or a baker or a spin class instructor or a graphic designer. All he cares about is if I’m me, and if I’m doing something that makes me happy.

What I meant was that I don’t have to try hard to make sure he’s happy, because he doesn’t need me to do anything in particular to keep him happy, or live up to some set of expectations he has for me.

The only expectation was that I care about him like he cares about me.

I stop halfway down the stairs, girls on their way to their rooms flowing around me, some ignoring me, some giving me dirty looks for stopping in the middle of the walkway. I move off to the side and sink to the steps against the wall, uncaring that I’m sitting in decades’ worth of built up stairway grime, our entire conversation replaying in my head. The look on his face when he came to the incorrect conclusion that he doesn’t matter to me, though I can’t say I blame him. I’d probably think the same if someone said to me what I said to him.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” I say softly, tapping the heel of my hand to my forehead with each repetition. “Why can’t I do anything right?”

Because screwing up the good things in my life is my superpower. I have parents willing and able to pay for my education, and I can’t just suck it up and pick a major they approve of to get the free ride. I have a guy who practically worships me, and I can’t even brave the wrath of my dumbass brother, who I don’t even live with anymore. At most, we spend maybe two months out of the year under the same roof. And this year? Who knows? He’ll be graduating, and off to other things. Soon I won’t see him much at all.

Which makes my heart seize, because that also means I won’t even have chance run-ins with Simon anymore. The thought of never seeing Simon again …

That makes the tears well up. Big, ugly, wrenching sobs.

Because he’d already moved our relationship to the past tense before he even walked out my door. Odds are, I won’t see him again.

And it’s all my fault.

* * *

I don’t know how long I sit crying in the stairway or how many people see me there, but I finally go back to my room after Autumn comes and sits next to me, her arm wrapping around me for a side hug. “Come on,” she says, urging me up with the same arm. “Your butt will fall asleep here. Come back to our room. I’ll make you tea and smother you with blankets until you feel up to talking.”

Nodding, I accept the tissues she hands me, blowing my nose loudly before following her urge to stand. I follow her back up the stairs and down the hall to our room, trying and failing to stem the flow of the tears that just won’t quit.

True to her word, she shakes out one of our folded up blankets and holds it next to the couch, waiting for me to settle in my favorite corner. Then she tucks the blanket around me and pulls out another one, shaking it out and settling it over me as well before switching on the electric kettle on the little shelf in the corner that is our drink station. We have instant coffee, a wide selection of bagged and loose leaf teas that Autumn likes to mix in different blends, and hot chocolate. Maybe we should get some hot apple cider too. It’s the right time of year for it, after all.

More tears flow down my cheeks, even as I try to distract myself with thoughts about other hot beverage options, but at least the loud, horrible sobbing has stopped. I don’t know if Autumn heard my sobs and came to find me, or if someone alerted her that I was crying on the stairs, and I’m not sure which option is more embarrassing, so I decide I don’t want to know.

I’d rather believe that my slightly woo roommate answered my psychic vibrations of distress and that’s how she knew to come find me and where to look.

Yes. That’s far preferable than me freaking out half the dorm with my noise.

I lean my head against the couch as I wait, curled under my cocoon of blankets, trying to just not think for right now.

But that’s impossible. I’ve never really been able to get my brain to shut off anyway. It’s always running, like a hamster on a wheel, endlessly turning no matter what else is going on. The only thing that’s managed to make it stop is … well, Simon. Being with Simon. When I was the sole focus of his attention, it was exhilarating and grounding at the same time. He made it easy to narrow my world to him, to the way he made me feel, for at least a few moments.

That’s clearly not an option anymore.

Which just spurs a fresh wave of tears, more gasping breaths and sniffles, though not the heartbroken wails that echoed through the stairs.

Oh god. Autumn isn’t really psychic. She either heard me, or someone who knows us saw me and told her.

I pull the blankets up and over my head, embarrassment searing through me, painting my face with a blush that might end up permanently burned into my skin.

My mother would be mortified if she ever found out I made such a scene. And over a boy, of all things.

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