Page 106 of Beyond the Lines
She gives me a look so flat I could serve drinks on it, gesturing at the dark circles under my eyes and my pile of rumpled clothes. “The way you’ve barely left this room in days unless it’s for class. The way you stare at your phone when it buzzes, then look disappointed when it’s not him.”
“I don’t?—”
“The way you’ve been drawing the same guy for weeks, and don’t bother to deny it, because I’ve conductedseveralrecon missions in the name of roommate wellbeing.” She reaches past me and flips open my sketchbook to another page before I can stop her. “See? And this is just from—what—Tuesday?”
My face burns as she flips through page after page of Declan.
Declan smiling.
Declan with his brow furrowed in concentration.
Declan’s hands wrapped around a pencil.
Declan looking away, his profile cut sharp against a window.
“How did you?—”
“Please!” She scoffs. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing when you stare into space and keep hitting ‘next episode’ on Netflix without even watching?”
I bury my face in my hands, mortified. “I hate you.”
“You love me.” She sits on her bed, patting the spot beside her. “Look, I know you’re trying to outrun these feelings, but maybe it’s time you dealt with them?”
“I dealt with them,” I say, a bit too loudly, a bit too defensively, not meeting her eyes. “I fucked it out!”
“Yeah, but the thing with fucking it out is forgetting about it,” Em says. “And he’s still got youhooked, girl…”
“He does not?—”
She taps the sketchbook. “You fucked him and then ghosted him, even though you want more of it and more of him.”
My head snaps up. “I didn’t ghost him! He ghosted me!
“Did he though?” Em cocks her head. “Or did you create this whole one-time-only rule and then follow it so religiously he thinks that’s what you want?”
“Itiswhat I want,” I insist, my voice ringing hollow even to my ears. “He’s Mike’s teammate. Mike would kill him. And probably me.”
“So it’s really about Mike? That’s the reason—theonlyreason—you’re avoiding happiness? Because I have to say, Lea, that’s a shitty reason to deny yourself joy.”
“I—”
“Nope, my turn to talk,” she cuts me off. Mike would understand if you told him you genuinely care about Declan. Even if he had a tantrum first, which—let’s be honest—is practically guaranteed, he’d get over it. And even if I’m wrong, if he tries to killeitherof you, he’ll need to deal withme…”
“Terrifying,” I smirk, the fight already draining outof me. “It’s just that… Mike’s been off lately… he’s playing like crap and something’s wrong…”
Em’s eyebrows lift. “Off how?”
“I don’t know exactly. He won’t tell me. But…” I hesitate, then reach for my laptop, flipping it open. “This came out last week.”
Em leans in, squinting at the headline on the sports blog I opened:ALTMAN’S FALL FROM GRACE: IS PINE BARREN’S STAR DEFENSEMAN LOSING HIS EDGE?
“Ouch,” she says.
“Yeah.” I close the laptop. “I know he’s read it. When I went to his apartment, it was open on his computer. Hockey is everything to him, Em. So even if there was something with Declan—even if he wanted it, and he doesn’t—I can’t be the reason Mike goes off the rails after he supported me last summer…”
“Wow, that’s a lot of responsibility you’re taking for someone else’s emotional wellbeing,” Em says, her tone deceptively light. “Maybe if Mike’s so easily affected by other people, he should choose a more solitary sport. Like golf. Or fly-fishing. Do you think Mike would look cute in those little wading pants?”
Despite myself, I snort. “They’re called waders.”
