Burn Before Reading(105)

Enough to cherish me.

It suddenly makes sense – each time he tore himself away when we were touching. The excuses he’d make for getting away from me. The hard, cold exterior he’d put on, like a mask, to hide his real feelings.

That’s what he meant when he said he was afraid of me.

And I’d been too dense to understand. Too angry. Too convinced he hated me.

“Bee! Your friends are here!”

Panic grips me, and I quickly pull the dress on, zipping it up with difficulty. My hair – I run a brush through it and check my face in the mirror. I look awful. I look confused and exhausted and stressed. I try a smile, but it looks so fake. It’s the best I got right now. Whether or not I’m ready, they’re here.

I walk downstairs, hearing the low hum of voices as Mom greets Burn and Fitz in the hallway. Burn and Fitz and a girl voice – Keri. I didn’t think she’d show up, but she did.

“Hey guys,” I walk downstairs. Fitz immediately starts whistling and clapping, and Keri claps with him. Burn nods at me, his way of approving.

“You look wonderful, sweetie!” Mom crows. “Where did you get that dress? I’ve never seen it on you.”

“A…friend.” I cough.

“Is that what we’re calling him now?” Fitz quirks a brow. “Upgraded from enemies, have we?”

Keri nudges him in the ribs, and he rolls his eyes.

“Fine. I’ll be nice. But just this once.”

I laugh and run up, hugging him. He hugs me back. It’s so nice to see him, to see that he can look at me again.

“I found your little puzzle in your computer,” He says when we part. I smirk.

“It was pretty easy for you, I bet.”

“Too easy. You practically insulted me with it.”

“I’ll make a harder one next time. If you let me have a next time.”

It’s my way of apologizing. It’s an apology wrapped in insecurity, wrapped in a thick blanket of wanting his friendship again. He pauses, green eyes soft and freckles wrinkling with his smile.

“I think I’ll allow it. Just this once.”

I hug him again, joy rushing through my veins.

“Thank you.”

“But,” He holds a finger in my face. “If you fuck up again, it’s off with your head.”

“That’s very French of you. We studied the British, remember?”

“Oh they’re the same thing.” He waves his hand dismissively. “They all intermarry, anyway.”

Burn holds out a paper-wrapped box.

“For you.”

“Thank you,” I smile at him. His eyes are tender, gentle. The fact that he’s here at all means he’s forgiven me. Something about him is changed, but I can’t put my finger on it. He looks…calmer. More at peace. Before it was always like he was closing himself off, but now he’s a little more open, like a door letting in light.

“I brought something too!” Keri chimes in. She passes me a pink-wrapped box. “It’s nothing fancy, but I thought you’d might like it. For nostalgia’s sake.”

“Aw, thanks Keri. You really didn’t have to.”

“Consider it a thanks,” She smiles. “For being the only person in school who’ll talk to me about Neverwinter Knights without rolling their eyes constantly.”

Mom takes the presents and puts them in the kitchen. She offers everyone drinks, and the TV remote. She takes the cake out of the fridge. It’s sort of awkward, having your parents there for your birthday, trying to orchestrate things, but Dad sees how uncomfortable I am and pulls Mom aside. They announce they’re going out for a bit, and as Dad leaves he winks at me, a subtle ‘it’s all yours’.

We talk over drinks for hours, lying on the couches and floor. Keri and Burn find my old Clue board game and start playing while Fitz rummages through the kitchen cabinet.

“You know it’s actually considered rude,” Keri calls to him. “To go through other people’s things without permission. Especially their liquor.”

“I’m looking for the matches,” He drawls. “For the cake.”

“Sure you are.”

“Burn, tell her I’m recently sober and completely reformed.”

“He’s recently sober and completely reformed.” Burn deadpans.

“See?” Fitz points a butter knife at her. “From the mouth of babes.”

“You? Sober? That’s the best joke you’ve come up with so far in your life,” I smirk. Fitz’s face falls, a straight line to his mouth.

“I’m serious. I haven’t touched anything since that night you – you almost –”

“Drowned,” Burn finishes for him. Fitz flinches.

“Yeah. That.”

The pain in his normally cherubic face is obvious. I put a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey. It’s okay. I’m alright, you know?”

“Yeah, but because of me –”

“Fitz, who’s the shrink in this relationship?” I ask. He rolls his eyes.

“You.”

“Yes. Me. And I’d rather eat a pile of nails than watch you carry around any guilt because of what happened that night. It does things to you. And I don’t want that to ruin the little ball of perfect sunshine that you are.”