Page 101 of The Way I Am Now
“No, I mean really, because this is a lot. A lot for anyone, even you.”
“Dominic. Stop. She’s worth it.” But I feel myself getting all emotional again—angry, sad, it’s becoming harder to even know the difference anymore. “You know, this is all happening because literally everyone in her life has treated her like she’s not worth it for so long.”
“I get it,” he says. “I do. I really do.” He pauses. “If you’re in this for the long haul, maybe you need to talk to someone too. Because you know I got your back, but I have no clue what to tell you in this situation.”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“You know I love you man, but as your friend, can I be honest?”
“Yeah, okay.”
“You’re starting to spiral again,” he says. “Like before.”
EDEN
It’s been over a month since the nightmare, and things are finally getting back to normal. I’d taken an anxiety pill before Parker and I left the apartment. It’s extra slow to kick in tonight, though, as I sit in the stands by myself, chaos erupting around me.
Someone taps me on the shoulder and gestures to the seat next to me. “It’s taken, sorry!” I shout, but it’s so loud in here, I can barely even hear myself. I set my coat down and try to create a mental bubble while I wait for Parker to get back from the bathroom. But it doesn’t work; I can still feel the sweat on my palms. I can smell too many people in too small a place. I can see the wooden court shining like a lake that might swallow us all up.
The game won’t even start for a half hour and the energy in here is already insane. Everything is . . . too much. I guess the first home game of the season is a big deal. It’s so different from what I remember the last time I attended one of my brother’s high school games, when I was still in middle school and could tuck myself away into a corner and read, somehow managing to block everything else out.
When we were lying in bed this morning, Josh told me I didn’t have to come tonight—he knew I’d have trouble with a crowd this size. But when I said I wanted to, he laughed, reminding me that when we were in high school, I once told him that I’d never be the girl cheering him on at his games.
“Never,” he emphasized, teasing me.
“Oh my God,” I groaned into the pillow. “Why did you even like me back then?”
“Hey, I thought it was funny,” he told me.
“It wasmean.”
“No, really, I found your honesty . . .” He paused, looking at the ceiling for the word. “Refreshing.”
“Lucky for me,” I said.
He smiled at me so sweetly I wanted to stay in bed, but I had to get ready for my shift at the café. When I got out of the shower and came back into my room wrapped in a towel that only just covered me, I thought he’d fallen asleep again, so I tried to be quiet as I started gathering my clothes.
But then he sighed quietly through the word “God.”
I turned around to see him watching me.
“What?” I asked, but just the sound of his voice, that way, had already stirred up all these butterflies floating around in my stomach.
“How has it been so long since I’ve seen you like this?” he asked, sitting up.
“We’ve been busy,” I told him, but that’s only part of the truth. The other part was the harder part to admit—that something happened that night neither of us has quite recovered from yet.
I walked over to the bed to kiss him, but he lingered there, taking my hands, pulling me closer. “You smell so good,” he mumbled against my neck. As I drew back, the side of his face was all wet from my hair. I laughed and wiped his cheek with the corner of my towel.
He touched my stomach and brought his hands to my hips, then up to the spot in the center of my chest where I tucked the edge of the towel in to hold it in place. Then he gazed up at me, a look in his eye I haven’t seen in a while. “Do you have a few minutes?”
“A few,” I answered.
He crept over, making space for me. “Come back to bed for a little bit?”
As I lay next him, he kissed me and then studied my face for a few moments, running his finger along the scar above my eyebrow, smiling as he leaned down to kiss it. Then he kissed my mouth again, my neck, moving down, taking his time even though we didn’t really have the time.
The towel peeled away from my body easily. I forgot about the clock.
