The Problem with Forever(96)

“You said something tonight that really bothered me,” he said, and I heard a door close on his end. “You said you didn’t like yourself.”

I focused on the incomplete butterfly on my desk as I opened my mouth. No words.

“I hated hearing that, Mouse. I don’t like knowing you think that way,” he continued, and I closed my eyes. The burn was back, building in my throat. “There’s so much about you that you should like. You’re smart. You’ve always been smart. You’re planning to go to college and maybe even do something med school–related.”

I squeezed my eyes tight then, because I...I didn’t think I really wanted to do that, and thinking that made me feel like I was floating with no anchor.

“You’re kind,” he went on as I covered my face with my hand. “You’re a sweet person who has her entire future ahead of her. Not to mention you’re a great kisser. You kind of suck at the whole graffiti thing, though. That’s true.”

A choked laugh escaped me.

“But we can work on that,” Rider added. “And those soap carvings I saw? They were amazing, Mallory. You are talented. You just don’t talk a lot, Mouse. That’s it. You’re shy. That’s no reason to not like who you are, because who you are is wonderful. You’re perfect in your own way.”

“That’s not it,” I blurted out.

“What?”

I drew in a breath and it—it all just came out. “It’s not just that I don’t talk. I’m stuck.”

“You’re not stuck, Mallory.”

“I am.” I pushed off the bed and I began to pace. “I’m stuck and I can’t get past that.” My voice cracked and then I was talking faster, spewing out more words in a minute than I typically did in five hours. “Tonight was a first for me. It should’ve been fun and huge, and I didn’t even like it. I didn’t even experience it. I didn’t try. Not really. I’m that lame.”

“Mallory—”

“And you and I have always been this way. I need help. You... You’re right there. I fall apart. You piece me back together. I don’t even try to change that.”

“What? Where in the hell is this coming from?” he asked. “That’s BS.”

I shook my head.

“And you are trying. You’re in school. You’re making friends. You’re talking to people,” he persisted. “You just had a setback. That’s all.”

It was more than just a setback.

“I’m scared of everything,” I admitted, voice hushed. “Everything. My biggest fear is forever. That I will be like this forever.”

He cursed. “That bastard did this to you. The way he treated you—”

“He treated you the same and you didn’t turn out this way.”

“I’m not perfect, Mouse. None of us are, but damn, I hate hearing you say this stuff, because I...” His sigh came through the phone, sounding bone-weary. “I don’t know how to make that better.”

Neither did I.

And maybe...maybe it wouldn’t get better. Rider had said nothing lasted forever, but some things, some scars, ran too deep to ever fade away.





Chapter 28

Wednesday evening Ainsley messaged me on the computer.

You there, stranger?

I sent a quick yes. I’d barely talked to her since my party fail, too wrapped up in my own head to appreciate the stream of increasingly outrageous IMs she’d sent in the days that followed. Since that night I’d felt itchy and uncomfortable in my skin. I wanted to shed the layers but didn’t know how or where to even start.

The feeling had lingered through the beginning of the week. I couldn’t remember what was covered in class. Keira had asked about the party on Monday, and I’d lied, saying I’d come down with something. I knew Rider worried. We’d spent a few hours together after school on Wednesday, and I felt like I’d taken several steps backward. I was hyperaware of everything I did and said, which meant I said and did very little as we walked the Harbor. Rider watched me like he was afraid I’d break down at any given moment, which was probably what he expected. He only held my hand and kissed me on the cheek when he left for the garage and work.

I’d stayed in my room since I got home, carving away at a new piece of soap. I couldn’t touch the butterfly. It sat on the desk, half-transformed. Nothing I’d created with the new bars of soap looked right. I couldn’t get the petals right on the bloomed rose. I’d accidentally broken the ear off the bunny I’d been working on, and the cat looked like something out of a Tim Burton film but not as interesting.

I wasn’t concentrating. I couldn’t concentrate. Maybe Ainsley could distract me. A new IM appeared.

Can I call you? I know you hate talking on the phone, but I want to call.

I straightened, frowning. For Ainsley to actually call meant something was up. Something more than just my not being in the mood to IM all week. Of course, I typed, and my phone rang a few seconds later.

“I know phones aren’t your thing, but I just... I need someone to talk to,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “And you’re my best friend and I’m—” Her voice caught, and my chest squeezed. “I’m just really freaking out.”