Page 138 of You're The One
I try to soothe myself. To think logically. To put the pieces together. But they just won’t fit. The hive is swarming. Too loud for me to hear my own thoughts.
I check again.
They’re still looking at each other, too intently to notice me. And I don’t have to worry about being caught much longer because Emma steps into his room.
My legs give out, and I crumple to the floor. I stand no chance of holding the tears back now. My breaths turn choppy and shallow.
I try to focus—cool air in through my nose, warm breath out against my palm—but it’s impossible. I can’t get enough air in or out.
Like a goldfish out of water.
Drowning.
A sensation I relished only an hour ago.
Despite the wave of lightheadedness, I push to stand, bracing a hand on the wall for support.
I count down.
10, 9, 8, 7, 6…
Instinct takes over before I reach one.
I do what I always do.
I run.
FORTY-THREE
Emma takes the couch,and I sit across from her in one of two armchairs, the cameraman between us.
“I’ll keep this quick… I know you’re in a rush,” she starts.
“Actually, would you mind if I go first?”
“Oh.” She shifts, recrossing her legs. “Sure.”
“Thank you.”
She glances around. “Do you have anything to drink?”
I have no idea if the mini fridge is stocked, but tell her, “No. Sorry.”
I have a feelingI’m sorryis going to be my most-used phrase today.
Bodhi steps in, handing Emma a bottle of water, the top already unscrewed. She smiles at him shyly.
“Listen, Emma, I know we’ve done this whole song and dance once before, but I’m sending you home today,” I rush the words out before anyone can interrupt. “I think you’re great, and I really hope you find your person. But I’m not him.”
She nods, almost too easily. “I was going to tell you the same.”
That’s a plot twist I didn’t see coming. “You were?”
“I’m sorry I didn’t say so when we first talked. I thought maybe… things would develop. Feel different. But we never really got there, did we?” She exhales. “I’m used to accepting scraps from people, and I don’t want to anymore.”
“You shouldn’t,” I assure her. “And… I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” She shrugs. “The heart wants what it wants, right?”
