I'll Stop the World (18)

“That was really awful, what he said.”

“I thought you liked Stan.”

“I like you more.” She pats my legs through the blanket, giving my ankle a squeeze, and smiles.

I could drown in that smile.

“I’m really glad he didn’t do any of those things he said,” she says softly. “I’d miss you if you weren’t here.”

“You wouldn’t know me to miss me.”

“I think I’d know something was missing anyway. Even if I didn’t know it was you. Something wouldn’t feel right.”

“That’s how I feel all the time,” I say. “Like I took a wrong turn somewhere, and now everything about me is just . . . off. That thing Stan said about me being broken from the beginning, I think . . . maybe he’s right.”

I don’t normally voice my dark thoughts out loud, but there’s something about sitting here with Alyssa in the middle of the night that brings them closer to the surface. Harder to hold in. Plus, between the citizenship-award assembly and the internship applications and Stan’s bizarre tirade, today has made it abundantly clear that whatever I’m supposed to be at this point in my life, I’m not it. Like I came from the factory defective.

Alyssa adjusts her position again, pushing my legs to the side and tucking her body into mine to rest her head against my shoulder. My arm goes around her automatically, fitting her into my side like a missing piece. She’s always been a cuddler, especially when she’s tired. I used to think it meant something, but now I know better—or at least, I try to know better. Her hair tickles my nose, and I smooth it down as best I can with my free hand, resisting my desire to leave my fingers buried in her soft curls.

“I wish you didn’t think like that about yourself,” she whispers, her voice vibrating softly against my chest.

“I can’t help it.”

“I don’t think you’re broken.”

“I know.” I rest my chin on the top of her head. “What am I going to do when you’re gone next year?”

“I won’t be gone gone. I’ll come home on breaks. And we’ll still talk all the time.”

“Talking isn’t . . . this, though.”

“Yeah.” She sighs, then swivels her head to look up at me. “I’ll miss this, too.”

I have the overwhelming urge to kiss her. Her dark eyes are infinite, her lips slightly parted, so close I catch a whiff of coconut lip balm mixing with the hot cocoa on her breath. She’s right there, just a head tilt away.

Instead, I look up, staring out into the darkness. “That is, until you fall in love with one of your ripped naked models and run away with him,” I say, keeping my voice light. “That’s all art school is, right? Drawing naked people in soft lighting?”

“Oh, for sure. Hundred percent, that’s what it is. And you’re right, once I get my freakishly hot naked boyfriend, I probably won’t even remember your name,” Alyssa says. “But that still leaves at least a couple weeks for me to miss you before I completely forget you exist.”

I smile, trying to ignore the ache in my chest, trying to pretend there’s no truth in our jokes. Maybe it won’t be a hot naked model—although now I won’t be able to get that image out of my head; thanks, brain—but I’ve always known she deserves someone better than me. Someone who will do something with his life. Someone who won’t drag her down like a heavy chain, sinking us both.

I clear my throat, then tug at the hem of her Grey’s Anatomy T-shirt. “But I don’t think you get to be the judge of who is and is not broken, anyway, given your embarrassingly bad taste in pretty much everything.”

She smacks my arm playfully. “Shut up. I like what I like. Don’t media-shame me.”

“I don’t have to shame you; you should already be ashamed.”

“You are such a butt.”

“As long as I’m your favorite butt.”

“Nope. That honor goes to Chris Hemsworth.”

“Wow, I did not need to know that information.”

“Sorry—you sleep at my house, you have to talk about Avenger butts with me. Those are just the rules.”

“Fine. Which Avenger do you think has the worst farts?”

“Gross.”

“You are the one who demanded we talk about Avenger butts.”

“I take it back. You’re the worst.” She groans but doesn’t make any move to extract herself from my side.

Which is fine by me. I would happily stay like this forever.

At some point, we fall asleep, and later, Alyssa drifts back up to her room. Once she’s gone, though, I lie awake, missing her heat, her scent, the steady sound of her breathing.

We are just friends, I remind myself over and over again. Best friends. Bamboo-shoots-under-my-fingernails platonic freaking soulmates, even.

But that is all we are, and all we can ever be.





Chapter Ten


ROSE

“Girls, let’s go!” Diane’s voice rang through the house as Rose and Lisa crowded in front of their shared bathroom mirror, putting the finishing touches on their hair and makeup for the morning’s photo shoot.

Or rather, Lisa was putting on finishing touches. Rose kept starting over, each attempt to make herself presentable even more disappointing than the last.