Chapter 27 #2
We stay like that for a long time, and one by one, my muscles relax.
The tension seeps out of my body, and my tears slowly dry up.
When I pull back from him and stand up straight, his hands fall to my hips, and he squeezes lightly.
His eyes search mine when he asks, “Okay, what do you need? Pizza? Ice cream? Movie? I relinquish all control.”
I sigh, rubbing at my swollen eyes. “That all sounds great, but I really need to study. I haven’t been able to focus, and I have an exam tomorrow.”
Wes nods, not missing a beat. “Sunday night study sesh it is. Let’s stock up on supplies downstairs. We just did a grocery run and Ben made brownies. Extra fudgy. Chocolate icing on top. They’re irresistible and exactly what you need.”
My stomach growls at his description. I’ve barely been able to eat the past couple days. “That sounds good.”
Taking my hand, he leads me out of his room and down the stairs to the kitchen. He never once lets go of it. Not while he pulls snacks down from the cabinets. Not while he makes up a plate of brownies. He even rips paper towels off the roll using his teeth in place of his left hand.
Ben, who’s watching TV in the living room, glances up as we raid the kitchen. “Oh, good. You guys made up. Doc’s been moping around this place like someone just told him Santa wasn’t real. I thought I was going to have to hide all the sharp objects.”
I glance at Wes, who just shrugs and says, “I’m a mess without you.”
If only he knew how much I’ve cried over the past few days. I squeeze his hand and tell him, “Me, too.”
Sitting on Wes’s bed, trying to cram as many Art History facts as possible into my head, I feel relief, yes, but also something else.
Something less pleasant buzzing at the back of my brain, weaving tendrils of doubt through my chest and heart and stomach.
Telling me that I’ve dealt with the present, but not with the past. I put a band-aid over a bullet-hole, and it’s only a matter of time before the blood seeps through.
I don’t want to believe it. I won’t believe it. So long as I’m with Wes, here in the moment, everything will be okay. He makes everything okay. There will be no more freak outs. No more breakdowns. No more stress dreams or panic attacks. I told him about my past, and now I can move on.
How can you move on when you can’t even say the word aloud?
I don’t have to say it aloud. I don’t have to face the memory.
It’s locked away again, back where it belongs.
Now I just need to keep it there.
The next two weeks pass. I go to class. I do my work.
I hang out with Wes, and occasionally Quinn and Remy.
I get a decent grade on my history exam, and Wes and I perform our persuasive speeches.
Wes gets an A, of course. He collects talents with ease, public speaking the most recent addition to his vast repertoire.
I barely scrape by with a B, but that was to be expected with how I’ve been feeling lately, which is… off.
My relief after telling Wes about my past was short-lived.
I was intentionally vague, deliberately ambiguous, still barricading the memory pacing outside the door to my mind.
I’ve built blockades and fortified structural flaws and constructed workarounds and secret entrances.
Anything not to face it head-on. I’ve caught a peek of it through the window, sure, but the form’s blurred, and the details are hazy.
I don’t want to focus in too hard, it’s too painful, and maybe that’s why I’ve been having so many nightmares.
Dark flashes that jerk me awake in a cold sweat.
Dizzying reminders I haven’t dealt with my shit.
I downplayed it to Wes, and in the process, I downplayed it to myself.
I feel…unsettled. Sleep-deprived. And being with Wes is the only thing keeping me from thinking too hard or spiraling out of control.
He’s the antidote for my ailment. The calm in all the chaos.
I cling to him like a lifeline, and even if it’s not entirely healthy, he’s the only thing that makes me feel somewhat normal.
Still, we haven’t kissed since the night of my freak out.
We haven’t done anything, really, besides some light cuddling and holding hands.
We never called an official pause on all things physical, but I have a feeling he’s waiting for me to initiate.
For me to make the first move, so we don’t have a repeat of last time.
We’ve stopped doing sleepovers altogether, which wasn’t really a conscious decision (at least on my end), but every time the night draws to a close, Wes offers to drive me home. I always accept, and if I’m being honest with myself, it’s because I’m a coward, too afraid to stay.
“So, I’ve been meaning to ask you about your spring break plans,” Wes says, spinning in his office chair to face me. It’s a Sunday night, and I’m lying stomach down on his bed, ankles crossed in the air behind me as I work on my laptop.
I glance up at him, swallowing down a yawn. “When is that again?”
He snickers. “I guess that answers my question. It’s next week.”
I push up to a seated position, unable to admit that the days are morphing together and I’m losing track of time.
The lack of a full night’s rest is starting to get to me, not to mention my anxiety and denial that Wes is graduating in less than two months.
The moments I spend with him are alight in vivid technicolor, while the rest of my hours fade to gray.
Without him, all I’m left with are my own thoughts… and that terrifies me. “It is?”
“Yup. I guess that means you don’t have any plans?
” he asks, and I shake my head, earning myself that endearing grin.
“Well, would you consider coming with me to Cape Haven? A bunch of us rented out a place, this giant house on the beach. Overlooks the ocean and everything. It wouldn’t be for the entire break. Just Sunday through Wednesday.”
I tuck my legs under me as my heart rate kicks up at his invitation.
I hadn’t given spring break a second thought until now, and I worry my bottom lip between my teeth.
“How much would it cost?” I ask carefully, because there’s no way my parents are going to give me money to finance something like this.
Wes slaps a hand over his heart. “You think I’d make you pay?”
My mouth opens, then shuts. “No?”
“No is right. You’d be my guest. I’m not making my guest pay.”
“And they say chivalry is dead,” I joke. “Well, that’s really sweet of you, Wes. Who else is going?”
He thinks about it for a moment and then starts ticking people off on his fingers. “Kaden and Ben. Ben’s friend from home, Chloe. Paul, who you might have met, and his new girlfriend, Malorie. My childhood friends, Ace and Cory. Cory’s girlfriend Jamie. And I think that’s it.”
I squint at him, fitting faces to names in my head. “So…I’d be the only freshman?”
I try to picture myself on a trip with a bunch of upperclassmen I don’t really know. The idea makes me uncomfortable, but Wes will be there. And Ben and Kaden. And even though things have been a little bit off, I’d rather be anywhere Wes is than home by myself, spiraling.
“I think Malorie’s a sophomore,” he offers. “And Chloe’s a junior. You can think about it, if you want. No need to decide right—”
“I’ll go,” I blurt.
He looks shocked for a moment, and then his face lights up. In turn, my day gets a little brighter. I fear I’ve become addicted to making him shine. “You will?”
I nod, and he practically launches himself at me, toppling me playfully over on the mattress. He drapes his body around mine, big arms hugging my waist, squeezing me as tight as a teddy bear. “Yay, I’m so happy. I thought for sure you’d say no.”
“Wes—can’t breathe—”
His grip eases from around my stomach, and I suck in air. “Whoops. Sorry.”
I laugh a little at his sheepish expression. “It’s okay, Incredible Hulk.”
He snorts, pulling us both to a seated position. A crease forms between his brows as he regards me hesitantly. “There is one thing I need to warn you about,” he says, and his serious tone makes my spine stiffen.
My voice is wary when I ask, “What is it?”
“We’ll have to share a bed,” he tells me, his eyes searching mine for a reaction. I wait for him to say more, to elaborate. My body sags in relief when he doesn’t.
I bite back a smile. “We’ve done so many times in case you forgot.”
His mouth twitches. “I haven’t forgotten, smartass. But we haven’t in a while. Not since…”
Not since you told him about the guy who did something at a party.
I frown at the memory, shifting on the bed.
“I know. It’s okay. I…wouldn’t mind it. I want to share a bed with you, I mean.
” And once I speak the words, I’m surprised to find they’re true.
Am I nervous about things escalating into another repeat of that terrible Friday night?
Sure. But I’d rather fall asleep next to Wes than apart from him.
I can admit that much to myself, at least.
His eyes brighten. “You do? I wasn’t sure. I don’t want to push you. I pushed too hard before. You said you weren’t ready, but I didn’t hear you. Not really.”
“That wasn’t your fault,” I tell him softly, guilt rolling through me at the thought of him feeling even the slightest bit responsible for my freak out. He shrugs like he doesn’t believe me, and I feel worse. “So that’s why you haven’t asked me to stay over? I thought maybe you didn’t want me to.”
“Ivy,” he says, shaking his head. “That’s crazy talk. I always want you to stay. But you haven’t asked me either, so I was just following your lead.”
“Well, don’t,” I joke, deciding it best not to bring up the nightmares I’ve been having.
I had a particularly brutal one last night, not that I can recall the specifics.
But it woke me in a cold sweat, panicked and shivering, and I ended up tossing and turning until dawn.
Wes hasn’t mentioned the bags under my eyes, though, which means I must have done an expert job with the concealer.
“I have no clue what I’m even doing half the time. ”
Wes gives a laugh at that. “You think I do? I just make shit up as I go along.”
“Then you must be the luckiest man in the world because it always seems to work out for you.”
“I am lucky,” he says, gazing at me with tender eyes and a soft smile, “but you have everything to do with that.”
His words wrap around me like a blanket, offering the safety and comfort I’ve been craving the past few days, and I lean forward to kiss his jaw. “You say the nicest things to me,” I murmur against his skin before pulling back.
A brief look of surprise passes over his face at my show of affection, and he reaches up to cup my cheek. He looks at me like I’m the center of his world, and my breath stutters. “You deserve only the nicest things,” he says, his thumb brushing across my cheekbone. “Will you stay over tonight?”
I nod eagerly. “Yes. I’d love that.”
“Me, too.”
Our gazes hold for a few loaded seconds, and then Wes leans in to kiss me.
He moves carefully, cautiously, giving me every opportunity to pull away.
I don’t. I press my lips to his as my heart stumbles over a beat.
The kiss is chaste, but perfect, and it leaves me smiling for the rest of the night as Wes cuddles me in his arms. We don’t do anything besides that, but sleeping next to Wes quiets my mind and tames the nightmares.
I wake up calmer than I’ve been in a while, and I cling to the feeling until Wes drops me home.
Once I’m alone, the peace fades. My mood plummets and anxiety creeps back in.
Without Wes to hold onto and nothing to distract me, my mind starts buzzing again.
My head fills with noise, echoes, and all the truths I haven’t said, and I wonder how much longer I can go on like this.
How much longer until there’s no light, no quiet, no relief to be found anywhere?
Not even with Wes?