Chapter twenty four
Nadia
“Do you know what today is?” He asks, head propped up on his elbow, playing with a strand of my hair.
“No, what is today?” I ask, yawning.
We were under the stars, curled under blankets in the back of Pop’s truck that I was currently borrowing.
On the mountain, which is soon to become the Daredevil track.
Every chance or free moment I had, I’d been up here, clearing it out.
I’d been borrowing equipment from a friend of Pop’s who ran a construction business a town over.
Riven helps here and there, but he knew this was my thing, my quiet place like the bell tower was his.
Plus, he overwhelmed me sometimes. After he practically forced me into a relationship with him, I’ve found myself actually enjoying it. I like having him around, having his attention all to myself. My feelings for him are terrifying. I can’t imagine a day going by and not hearing from him.
It’s not perfect; neither are we, though. We don’t get to be together every day, so we cherish our moments together even more, because we realize just how fleeting this thing between us is. It can never be more, and it’s painful to think about.
But my heart didn’t get the memo, falling for him more and more each day. With every text, every smile, every forbidden look across a crowded room.
My heart is very much his.
“What’s today, phantom?” I ask.
“You need to call me something different. Phantom just won’t do.” He sidetracks himself.
“And why the hell not? Isn’t that what you are?” I mimic his position, sleep evading me.
“Yes, but that’s too direct. You don’t see me going around calling you LBC.” He argues.
“Pet names are too much work.” I roll my eyes.
“No, they’re not. I came up with daredevil pretty easily.” He pinches my shoulder, pressing a kiss to the same area just as fast.
“Well, that’s because I shared this incredibly personal thing with you. I’ve told you things I wouldn’t tell anyone else. Because I trust you.” I smooth some of the hair out of his face.
“I know you, but I can’t help but feel like I’m missing something.”
He gets serious after that, sitting up in the bed of the truck, bracing his elbows on his knees.
I don’t push him; I just let him sort it out in his head.
I know he’s wired differently than most people and when it comes to matters of the heart, things get especially difficult.
Instead, I trace the lines of tattoos on his back and sides, feeling some hidden scars as I go.
“You’re too goddamn smart to not realize by now that I’m… messed up in the head.” I stay silent, not denying it. He huffs.
“Borderline personality disorder and alexithymia. That’s what’s wrong with me.” He reveals.
Instantly, my analytical mind starts working overtime to dissect exactly what that means.
BPD means his way of feeling emotions is intense; he’s got an all-or-nothing mentality, and probably has abandonment issues.
The alexithymia is something I’ve heard about, but never encountered.
He can’t identify or explain feelings well, has difficulties verbalizing emotions, and processes things more through actions than words.
Combine that, and you get a man who feels everything too much but can’t explain any of it. How beautifully fucked up is that?
“How do you know?” It’s not like there are a lot of therapists or mental health specialists in Stonebridge.
“Since I was born, my mom knew there was something wrong with me. Or so she told me. Knew that I wasn’t right in the head.” I sit up at this. What a bitch.
“Took me to some fancy facility in California that one of her rich boyfriends paid for. That’s how I got the diagnosis.
The doctors poked and prodded at me until they finally found it.
Proof my own mother was right to hate me.
” His nails dig into his palms. I have to pry them away and lock our fingers together to get him to stop.
“And your dad?”
“He was Cordelia’s right hand. Died of a stab wound when I was twelve. That was all my mother needed to drop me on her doorstep and skip town with her new fiancé. The rich guy she was cheating on my dad with. The one who paid for my diagnosis.” He rubs his jaw.
“Anyways, I always knew her as Aunt Cordelia, and even though she’s the leader of a gang, I was always her first priority, which was nice for a change. But, no amount of love can fix how fucked up I am.” His laugh is self-deprecating.
“Don’t pity me, Nadia. I don’t need it.” He lets go of my hand.
“I don’t pity you, Riven. I just hate that you think there’s something wrong with you.”
“Cause it’s the truth.”
“Having mental disorders doesn’t mean you’re wrong or fucked up. I actually think you’re fucking perfect. It drives me insane.” He faces me then.
“You think I’m perfect?”
“Shut up.” I swat his shoulder, downplaying it. I’ve met my quota for sentimental shit for tonight. I lay back down, examining the stars before me.
“Hey, daredevil?”
“What, phantom?”
“I think you’re pretty fucking perfect too.”