Page 113 of Need You to Choose Me

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “I know you wouldn’t, and I told my brother that. But he seems to think you flipped your switch out of nowhere. That worries him.”

The pad of his thumb caresses the back of my hand. “I understand that. If I were in his shoes, I’d feel the same way. But I promise you, Able was talking shit and didn’t stop when I told him to. So, yeah, I punched him. Harder than I probably should have. He went down and I got benched for a couple of games. It was no big deal. Able even apologized to me. Did Sebastian tell you that?”

Quietly, I say, “No.”

“Didn’t think so.” He scratches his jaw. “I’m not perfect. I’m far from it. But I’m not a violent guy. You never have to worry about something like that with me. I’m not my mother. I’m not going to mentally check out or act up.”

I meet his eyes. “I know you’re not like her.”

We stare at one another for a moment longer before he dips his chin. “I’m going to deal with these pictures,” he reassures me. “But let’s not let it ruin this trip. We haven’t even made our own Reese’s cups like you wanted.”

Even though I’m not in the mood to do that anymore, I know he’s right. “Maybe we should make one and share it?” I suggest, knowing how big they are. The thought of pictures of me winding up online with a one-pound peanut butter cup hurts my stomach.

He tips my chin up. “If that’s what you want, then sure. But if you’re only doing it because of those dickwads online, then fuck them.”

I swallow, feeling a little guilty for letting myself believe some of those awful things. But I’m human. Anybody would feel that way.

“Let’s share one,” I tell him quietly.

Something passes through his eyes.

But he simply nods and stands, offering his hand to me.

I don’t take it.

“Olive,” he says softly.

“I’m fine,” I lie, feeling the heaviness of my conscious weigh me down. The claws of my inner demons sink into my mind and heart, trying to pull me down with it into the depths of God only knows where.

I don’t want to go down that road—to get lost in the anxiety spiral that will undoubtedly lead to a depression that I’m not sure I can pull myself out of once I’m alone in Lindon.

“You’re not,” he tells me, brushing hair behind my ear. “And you’re not alone. I’ll make this better. I promise.”

You’re not alone.

My heart tugs in my chest as I force myself to swallow. We don’t speak on the way to the factory where we have tickets to.

When we get there, he makes a dark chocolate stuffed Reese’s with all of my favorite inclusions—even the marshmallows that he doesn’t like.

For me.

He did it for me.

You’re not alone.

No matter how hard my demons fight to drag me down, those words keep me afloat.

*

One of themany things I love about my friends is how polar opposite they are. Skylar is quiet, reserved. She doesn’t like confrontation. But Berlin is the exact opposite.

“If I could put laxatives in each one of those morons’ drinks, I would,” she tells me. “And I’d force it down their throats.”

“Geez,” I hear Skylar say over Bentley’s subtle noises. “Why does it sound like you’ve done that before?”

Berlin snorts. “Imay haveput laxatives in some cookies I made once. In my defense, the girl who ate them kept stealing my lunch at school. I needed to get payback. I didn’t think she’d eat the entire bag of cookies.”

My eyes widen. “Oh my God. What happened to her?”

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