Page 69 of Through You
“Don’t call me dummy.” He wasn’t expecting my reaction, but I continued. “And you’re dumber than I am.” I regretted my words as soon as they were spoken. I’d have to behave better or they’d kick us out, like my mom had said. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” He didn’t look bothered. “Let me make something for you.”
That night, Artemis made me the first proper meal I’d had in a very long time. Then right after, I went to sleep on a bed that wasn’t made of grass or newspaper, with my belly full of real food instead of air. It was the best night of my childhood.
By the time I make the walk home from the bus depot, I’m exhausted. It was farther than I expected, and the nostalgia triggered by the memory from that night still lingers in my mind. I open the front door and rest my back against the wall. The room is dark except for the glow of the fireplace. The crackling noise of the fire echoes in the otherwise silent house.
I don’t have to see him to know he’s there.
His suit jacket is off and carefully laid over the arm rest of the couch. The top buttons of his white shirt are undone and so is his tie, revealing a patch of chest where his shirt parts. It’s close to midnight. Did he just get home from work?
Artemis doesn’t say anything and simply stares at me. When I see him, I never pick up on the coldness that Ares and Apolo often speak of.
Am I the only one who is capable of looking past it?
Am I the only one you al ow to see through you, Artemis?
I’m struck by the sentiment that perhaps I’m the one person who knows him better than anyone else. I find it hard to believe he’s the type who could be unfaithful—there must be more to him cheating on his girlfriend. Am I stupid for entertaining these thoughts? Am I refusing to face reality? Five years have passed; maybe he’s completely changed and is no longer the sweet boy I fell in love with. So why can’t I shake the feeling that whenever he’s with me he’s the exact same person he was before? He lowers his head, stands up, grabs his blazer, and turns to give me his back, heading toward the stairs.
“Artemis.”
I surprise myself. What am I doing? He turns around but doesn’t approach me. I peel myself off the wall and make my way to him cautiously, one step at a time. I come to a halt with a safe distance between us.
“Tell me the truth, Artemis.”
He scowls.
“I’m giving you this one chance to be honest with me.”
His voice is dead calm. “What are you talking about?”
“You know damn well.” I’m exasperated and raise my hands when he refuses to give me an answer. “Forget it. I’m not sure what I was thinking.”
I walk away, feeling like an idiot for seeing something that wasn’t there. I’m about to step into the hallway that leads to my room when a pair of arms wrap around me from behind, stopping me in my tracks. Artemis pulls me tight against him. His chest is glued to my back.
He rests his forehead on my shoulder, and his voice is barely a whisper. “I didn’t lie to you or toy with your emotions. I could never play games like that with you, Claudia.”
I keep quiet and let him continue to explain, because I know he could not do it face-to-face. “I had broken up with her when I went looking for you that night at the club. You were never the other woman. I couldn’t put you in that position.”
“But you got back together with her.”
He doesn’t say anything.
“Why did you kiss me if you were going to get back with her?”
“Because I didn’t want to get back with her, I wanted to . . .”
I turn in his arms so that I can see him, and grab his face with both hands. I force him to look straight at me, which is a terrible idea, since having him this close is too tempting.
“What did you want?”
The honesty in his eyes is explicit. “I wanted to be with you.”
“I don’t understand you, Artemis.”
He presses his forehead against mine and his breathing grazes my lips.
“I want you to know that I wasn’t playing games with you.
