Chapter 1 #3
“I told you, it was my mother’s favorite book.
” I glance at the slightly worn hardback cover again.
“Mama had one just like this and she lost count of how many times she’d read it.
It was practically falling apart. I don’t know what happened to it after she died.
It’s like it disappeared off our bookshelf. ”
His left eye twitches, which only happens when he’s lying about something. He pauses a beat too long. “Well, now you have your own copy.”
“Thank you,” I say as I hug the book to my chest and try to ignore my curiosity about whatever it is he’s hiding from me.
Then I reach to the side and set it down at the edge of the blanket.
When I turn back toward him, his eyes are focused on my body again.
Somehow I don’t mind, even though I hate it when the boys at school ogle me like this.
I wait for his eyes to drift up to my face.
His lips part like he’s going to say something, but no words come out. The look on his face is something akin to pain.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
He swallows again. “Nothing.” His left eye twitches.
I scoot forward on my knees so we’re only a foot apart.
“Sasha, you’re my best friend and I need you to stop lying to me.
” There’s a palpable tension in the air, something electric that is snaking its way around us.
If I reach out and touch him now, sparks will fly and we’ll both burst into flames.
I want that—the thrill of touching him, the fire that would erupt between us—more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
And it feels possible, within my grasp for the first time ever, because finally he seems to see me the same way I see him.
“What’s wrong?” I ask again, leaning in close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body.
I’m torn between wanting him so badly it hurts, and wanting to understand why he doesn’t even look like himself.
He’s good at staying calm, wearing that mask that hides all his feelings.
But this isn’t his normal mask. This is something else entirely.
He takes in the limited amount of space between us, his eyes sliding down and back up to my face. “Petra,” he says my name like he’s choking on the word, “nothing can happen between us.”
I’m so surprised by his response that I just blink at him, my lips parting slightly as I try to catch my breath.
His eyes are on my mouth, just like they were in the garden earlier.
His forehead is creased and his eyes crinkle at the corners.
If that isn’t a look of longing, then I don’t know what is.
“Why are you doing this, Sasha?” I ask. He’s fighting something that is so obviously right.
“You’re a child.” The condescending tone hits me like a spray of ice water to my face. “I don’t see you like that.”
“Bullshit,” I say. The attraction that’s been growing while he’s been home this summer is clear as day, painted across his face, embedded in that hungry gaze. I know he loves me, and I know he could be in love with me if he let himself.
“I don’t feel that way about you, and if you don’t realize that, you’re a fool.”
His words don’t just sting, they crush. Sasha is trying to hurt me and I don’t understand why he, of all people, would do this. Especially when I can tell that he doesn’t mean it. His words are at odds with everything else . . . his body, his face, the emotion I see in his eyes. He’s in pain too.
“Why are you saying these things?” I whisper, trying to hold back the tears that are clouding my vision.
“Because you need to hear them. You’re playing a dangerous game, flirting with every man around you. You’re sixteen, but you look a lot older, and you’re going to get yourself into trouble one of these days.”
“You sound like all the jealous, catty girls at school. Is that what you are, Aleksandr? Jealous and catty?” When he doesn’t respond, I say, “I can’t help what I look like.”
“You need to be careful,” he says, his eyes bouncing all over my face like he’s cataloging every last detail.
“Oh.” The word is an icicle dancing between us. “You’re one of those.”
“One of what?”
“One of those people who thinks that instead of teaching boys to respect girls, we need to teach girls to be careful not to attract too much attention from boys.”
“No, I’m just someone who used to be your friend, but I don’t think we should be friends anymore.”
A literal knife piercing my pounding heart would do less damage than these words. He’s left a gaping hole in my chest, a wound so deep and fresh I can barely utter, “What?”
“You heard me.” There’s no expression on his face, his eyes are placid, his lips are flat. “This is goodbye.”
“Sasha.” The words are a whispered plea floating off my lips and falling on deaf ears. “No. I can’t lose you too.” This doesn’t even make sense.
Not once did I envision tonight ending this way. I would have done anything to keep his friendship, because there is no one in this world more important to me than him. I don’t understand why he’s doing this to us.
“You have no choice,” he says, and he’s never sounded more like his father in his life.
When he descends the ladder, I don’t for a second believe this is really the end, that this is really goodbye forever. We’re too close for that. He’s my best friend, and even if he doesn’t want anything more than that, he would never end our friendship like this.
Over nothing.
Would he?