Burn Before Reading(38)

"No – wait. That's a lie. I know you. I know you had Fitz hack your Dad's computer to read my essay. I know you like motorcycles. I know you -"

I stop myself from saying 'hate being touched', or 'your mom died'. Those are private things I'm not supposed to know.

" - I know you fought Mark," I finished. "And the day after, he stopped coming to Lakecrest."

I expected Wolf to get angry, to bark, but the only sound was that of the wine bottle rising to his lips and being put down again.

"I wouldn't expect someone like you to understand," he said finally.

"Understand what? That you fought a guy and he was beat so bad he left?"

"It wasn't like that," Wolf snarled. "You wouldn’t understand.”

"I sure as hell can't understand if you don't tell me!" I shot back, my gaze finally daring to drift to his face. His jade-green eyes glowed with furious fire, and I managed to withstand it for a few seconds. But I wasn't the first to look away. For once, it was Wolf who broke our stare.

"Look -" I started. "You're right, okay? I'm only gonna say that once - you were right. I judge people harshly. I freaking can't get past my own judgement of people. And it sucks! It super sucks to realize maybe you were the asshole all along, but that doesn't mean I can't change it. I'm gonna. Just slowly. At my own pace. No matter what it takes, I'm going to change it."

"Why?" He demanded.

"Because I have to."

"Why?" He shot again, harder, like he was trying to cut me with his words alone.

"Because - " I swallowed. "Because if I don't, I can't be a good shrink."

"There's more to life than becoming a good shrink," Wolf said. "For instance, becoming a good person, maybe?"

"I'd say I'm already -"

"You're not," He snapped. "None of us are. You don't attain it, like some trophy, set it aside and rest on the laurels of it. We have to work at it. Being a good person takes work, every second of every day. That's why so few people do it - because it's exhausting."

He sat on the bed, his elbows on his knees and his hands in his chin.

"You're so focused on becoming something to help your Dad," He said, suddenly sounding tired. "That your life is passing you by."

I felt my hackles rise. "You know nothing about my life."

"I read your essay," He shot a glare at me.

"That's not all of who I am! It's just a piece of paper!"

"It was your writing," He insisted. "Very determined, very honest writing, written to chase your dreams. I read it. I read it over and over again. That essay bared your soul. Whether you deny it or not, that essay was you - down to the very last comma."

"You don't know me from an essay."

"No," He agreed. "But I know you're burning yourself at both ends in a misguided attempt to 'save' your dad. I know you abandoned your dreams of writing to help him. You're holding the world on your shoulders, and eventually it's going to crush you."

Something in my chest twisted around, hard and aching.

"So?" I retorted. "It doesn't matter - if it works, if I can make a difference, I don't give a shit if it crushes me.”

"Of course you don't," He spun a silver ring around his finger. "Because you don't care about yourself. You don't think you're valuable, or worth caring for."

It got hard to swallow, all of a sudden.

"Why are you acting like this?” I asked. “Why do you give a shit at all? I'm just the scholarshipper to you."

Wolf stood up again, and moved towards me. He hovered there, inches away, his voice low and gravelly. He smelled like wine and wool and something distinctly boy - spice and sweat. The cuffs of his sweater hiked up, the gauze on his knuckles showing.

"Because I was you. Once upon a time."

I didn't dare look up at him. He laughed, the sound black with despair and rumbling in his chest. He spun a ring around his finger faster.

"I tried to save someone, too, no matter what it took. And what you see is everything that's left of me, after it all came crashing down."

He was so close, I felt that strange urge to reach out to him again, to feel the softness of his sweater, the smoothness of the skin of his collarbone. There it was – that weird something arcing between us like electricity again. I hardened myself and looked up at him. His gaze was squarely on me, taking in every inch of me as if he was trying to memorize it.

"You shouldn't have come," He said.

"To the party?" I asked.

"To the party. To Lakecrest. To this room. To me, at all."

"Not everything revolves around you."

He laughed that sad laugh again. "You even sound like him."

"Like who?"

Wolf stepped back, and shook his head. "No one. Nothing. You should leave."

"You can't just say something like that and then dismiss me like I'm some servant. I deserve answers."

"You deserve to be selfish. You deserve to pursue the things that make you happy. You deserve to live your own damn life," Wolf said. "But you won't, because you're stubborn. You'll bury yourself in duty and your savior complex until you start to think misery is all you deserve."