Page 22 of Alessia
The silence of my apartment wraps around me, thick and suffocating.
For a second, I just stand there, staring at the floor like it might have the answers I need. But I know it doesn’t.
There’s only one person who might.
With a shaky breath, I pull my phone from my pocket and scroll until I find her name, Riley. The only person who has ever understood me without me having to explain.
I hesitate for half a second before hitting the call button. It rings twice before her voice comes through, groggy and confused.
“Harper? It’s… what? Almost midnight? What’s wrong?”
I sink onto the couch, pressing my forehead into my palm.
“I just…” My voice is still shaking, and I hate it. I clear my throat and try again. “I just needed to talk to you.”
She’s quiet for a second, but I hear the rustle of sheets, like she’s sitting up.
“What happened?” she asks, softer now.
I exhale slowly, staring at the ceiling. “I met someone.”
Silence.
“…And?”
“And she’s not who I thought she was.” The words come out almost a whisper.
Riley makes a noise that’s half sigh, half hum. “Okay. Want to give me some details, or are we keeping it vague?”
“Vague.”
“Got it.” She pauses. “Do you like her?”
I close my eyes, because that’s the worst part, isn’t it? The part I don’t want to say out loud.
“I don’t want to,” I admit. “But yeah.”
Riley exhales, and I can hear the knowing smile in her voice when she says, “Then it’s not that simple, is it?”
I let out a bitter laugh. “It has to be.”
Because if it isn’t, I don’t know what I’ll do.
Riley doesn’t say anything for a moment, but I can hear her thinking. It’s something she’s always done, letting silence stretch just long enough to make sure she says the right thing. Normally, I appreciate it. Right now, it just makes my chest ache.
“You know,” she finally says, her voice careful, “liking someone doesn’t mean you have to accept everything about them. And it sure as hell doesn’t mean you have to stay if it’s not safe.”
Safe.
The word sticks in my throat.
Nothing about this feels safe. Not Alessia’s world. Not my feelings for her. Not the way my heart still jumps when I think about her saying she wants me.
I shift on the couch, rubbing my hand over my face.
“I know that, Ri.”
“Do you?” she asks, and there’s no judgment in her voice, just concern. “Because you don’t sound sure.”
