Page 15 of Discord
“Brandon, you can’t stay here. Someone might come to my room,” I reminded him warily.
“I locked the door.”
“In the morning—”
“I’ll leave through the fire escape.”
I swallowed my next protest, not the least surprised he found out about the fire escape.
After my hair was satisfactorily dry, Brandon balled the towel and tossed it into my hamper. “You didn’t have dinner. Let’s—”
“Not hungry,” I cut him off.
His body tensed with a rebuttal, but he chose to drop it. “Fine. Go to sleep,” he ordered in a low voice.
“There’s no way I’ll fall asleep tonight.”
A pregnant pause. “Are you ready to tell me what happened?”
Oh, God, please, no.
I shut my eyes in a futile effort to block out today’s events. It only amplified the images—the horrid exchange, Milo’s grip around my neck, the dubious nature of Raven’s safety. She had rebuffed my efforts and was in denial of her dangerous predicament. What if Milo lost it with Raven in the same manner and didn’t let go of her until it was too late?
Tears welled up. My back was still lodged against Brandon’s chest, with my right cheek resting over his heart. The angle allowed for a few tears to roll down my cheek. Brandon didn’t comment as the wet streaks slid down to his big arms, and I silently appealed to him for a reprieve.
If anyone understood unspoken pleas, it was Brandon Cooper. “What’s new with global warming?” he asked out of the blue.
When I was young, I used to look up facts about climate change and inform Brandon how we would all die. He told Milo to put a parental lock on our internet.
I took in a shuddering breath. “Don’t mock me right now.”
“I’m not. What’s the next big predicament in climate change?”
I sniveled. “In fifty years, twenty percent of the world will become uninhabitable. Is that news exciting enough?”
“I’m at the edge of my seat,” he replied dryly.
He wasn’t. I didn’t believe him to be genuinely curious, but I humored him. “If we don’t do anything, Maldives will likely become extinct and underwater. If you want to visit, now is the ideal time.” I hiccupped.
“I’ll look into it right away.”
“Many other countries, too.”
“Hmm. Something must be done to prevent it.”
“Trying to help is pointless.” I closed my eyes. There shouldn’t be any more moisture left to spare, yet more silent tears seeped out. “Everything will only get worse from here on.”
A thoughtful tension vibrated through Brandon’s body language. He knew I wasn’t referring to global warming. “What do you need to make things better?”
The meaningfulness in his voice spoke volumes. He meant,what can I do to make things better?
I opened my eyes and searched for his reflection in the mirror. The intensity in his expression made my insides tremble. A selfish desire took root, uncaring of the consequences and how they might affect Brandon.
“I need a good night’s sleep. Thoughtless and dreamless sleep.”
“Try closing your eyes for a bit,” he replied, unsure of my implication.
“Closing my eyes is only making me think of the worst. I want to stop thinking altogether.” I pursed my lips, then forced the words out, “I wantyouto help me stop thinking. It’s the only way I’ll fall asleep tonight.”
