Chapter 20
Milow
Scottie and Stan had talked things out. Scottie talked about it the entire time we were shopping.
It didn’t bother me. I listened, glad they actually seemed to have reached some understanding this time.
When I asked her if they had finally decided to go on a date, she said no.
Instead, they agreed to stay friends for now and give it a few weeks without fighting before even thinking about dating.
It sounded reasonable. Probably smarter than jumping into something while everything was still messy.
When I got home, Mom and Evie were in the kitchen, cooking dinner together.
Dad was still at work, and Wesley was at practice.
I went straight to my room and unpacked my backpack, laying out my books in the order I wanted to work on them later.
After that, I took out the two books I had bought at the bookstore.
I’d had just enough money for two paperbacks.
Two books I’d been wanting to read for a while, and I was already trying to figure out when I could start one of them.
I read the blurb on the back of the first book, then the second, going back and forth as I tried to decide which to read first.
“You’re back.”
I snapped my head toward the door and saw Ashby standing there with a smile on his face. I smiled back and nodded, lifting the two books to show him before setting them down on the bed. [I got new books.]
“Yeah? Can I see?”
I nodded and stepped aside, letting him walk over and pick one up. “A psychological thriller?” he asked, glancing back at me. “You like those?”
I shrugged. [I haven’t really read one before, but this one’s supposed to be really twisty, so I thought I’d try it.]
“Sounds good,” he said, then picked up the second book. It was the same genre. “Can I read this one? It actually sounds pretty interesting. We could read together.”
The idea of reading books together excited me. It reminded me of the days we looked at children’s books when we were little, so I nodded quickly. [Okay.]
“Perfect.” He grinned and sat down on the edge of the bed, the book resting in his lap as he leaned back on his elbows.
I turned to my desk and finished putting my things away, stacking my schoolbooks and sliding my notebooks into place.
When I glanced over, he was still watching me, looking extremely comfortable in my room.
I smiled, enjoying his presence. It seemed that lately we’ve been hanging out more often again, and I liked that.
Mom called us for dinner from downstairs a while later, and Ashby sighed as he stood up. “Wanna read together after dinner?”
[I have to do my homework first.]
“That’s fine. I’ll start the book already so I can get a headstart.”
I’d finish the other book faster than he would. That was for sure.
[Okay.]
__
Friday, September 12th
Every Friday, I had a free period before lunch.
I always spent it in the library. No one bothered me there.
Even with other students around, they were the kind who actually worked instead of sitting around making noise.
I was in the middle of a math problem when my phone buzzed inside my backpack.
I pulled it out and saw a message from Ashby.
He was supposed to be focused on class, but that clearly didn’t matter to him. He also knew I had a free period.
Ashby
Are you in the library?
I pressed my lips together and typed a quick reply.
Me
Yes.
Ashby
Perfect.
I was about to warn him not to come—because he definitely had somewhere else to be—but I didn’t get the chance. Seconds later, he was walking toward my table with a smug grin. I put my phone down and frowned. [You should be in class.]
He dropped into the chair next to me. “I should,” he said quietly. “But I’d rather hang out with you.”
I studied him for a moment, taking in the tired look in his eyes. [I’m working on math problems.]
“I can see that.” He leaned back in his chair. “Keep going. I’ll watch.”
I didn’t mind him watching while I worked, but I wished he’d take school a little more seriously. [Are you missing something important?]
“No, I—”
“Quiet, please,” Mrs. Chancey, the librarian, hissed from her desk near the entrance.
We both looked at her, then at each other.
Talking wasn’t an option for him anymore, but there was a simple solution to that. Ashby lifted his hands and signed instead. [I’m not missing anything important. Just boring geography.]
I pursed my lips. [What did you tell your teacher?]
He shrugged. [Nothing. I just excused myself.]
Of course he did. And of course, his teacher let him go. Being the star athlete came with its perks. I knew it wouldn’t last forever, though. One day, someone would stop letting him skip class. Until then, he’d probably miss fifty more. [Mom and Dad won’t like that.]
[Mom and Dad won’t know.] He raised a brow, then sighed. [Practice was intense last night. I didn’t sleep well. I’m tired. My body hurts. I don’t want to use my brain right now.]
I watched him for a moment longer. I understood. I didn’t want him slipping into something he couldn’t easily climb out of. For now, he had things under control. He was allowed to feel worn down, especially after a long swim practice.
I smiled softly. [Okay. I still need to finish these.]
[That’s fine.] He smiled back. [I’ll watch.]
I went back to my worksheet and forced myself to focus, my pencil moving across the page as I worked through the next problem. I was aware of Ashby sitting beside me the entire time, but he wasn’t distracting. He made me feel safer and more relaxed. After a few minutes, he shifted his chair closer.
His hand moved toward my left, where I was holding the pencil, and he hesitated for a moment before he took it, his fingers wrapping loosely around my hand.
His gaze dropped and settled on my thumb, and I felt a familiar twinge of embarrassment when I realized how raw the skin looked.
I hadn’t even noticed that I’d been picking at it today.
Ashby’s expression changed subtly, his jaw tightening as he turned my hand to look more closely. He didn’t comment on it or pull his hand away. Instead, he brushed his thumb gently over mine, as if he was trying to stop the habit with a simple touch.
I swallowed and glanced up at him. [Sorry,] I signed with my other hand.
He shook his head immediately and tightened his grip, his expression firm but kind. “You don’t have to apologize.”
I pulled my hand out of his and stared down at my thumb, feeling a familiar wave of frustration as I took in how red and irritated the skin looked. I hated that it was so obvious again, hated that I hadn’t even realized I’d been doing it until he noticed.
As much as I wished I could stop, and as much as it hurt when the picking got really bad, I honestly didn’t know how.
Dad once told me it was just a habit, something I could break if I focused hard enough and really tried, but I had tried.
I’d tried more times than I could count.
I’d been doing this since I was five, ever since fear started settling into my body in ways I didn’t know how to explain.
Picking had always been a way to ground myself when everything else felt too loud, and in the end, I started doing it subconsciously.
When I looked back at Ashby, his expression had shifted, worry written plainly across his face.
He wanted to help, I could tell, but he didn’t know what to do, and neither did I.
I didn’t expect him to fix this for me. It was mine to deal with.
I told myself I’d grow out of it eventually.
That once school wasn’t a constant source of pressure and anxiety, maybe my hands would finally rest.
[I really want to finish this,] I signed, reaching for my pencil again and turning back to the worksheet.
“Okay,” he said quietly, staying right where he was.
I worked through the last few problems with him beside me in the quiet library, and even though the anxiety never fully left, it didn’t feel as heavy when he was there.