No. I want to tell her more. To tell her everything. But she can't know about my depression. And she certainly can't know what happened between me and her brother. I can't take her hating me too. "We can talk later."
She steps back with a smile. "Boy trouble?"
"Sorta."
Her jaw drops. Her dark eyes light up. "You like someone?"
"It's more compli—"
"Oh my God! You like someone." She squeezes me again. "We're going to talk about this all night. Can you help me go red?"
"Of course. How red?"
"More crimson. Like a vampire."
"It will suit you."
"I think so too." She smiles as she picks up her backpack and slides it over one shoulder. "You want a ride?"
"I'd rather bike." I motion to the clock. Her first class is in half an hour. I have an extra hour after that. "Go. Kick ass."
"Okay." She blows me a kiss as she steps backward. "I love you, Kay." She reaches for the door. Pulls it open. "Don't worry. We'll put our heads together. Figure out this boy problem."
I swallow the confession that rises up in my throat. "I trust you."
She blows me a kiss as she makes her way out the door.
The lock clicks. Her car turns on and pulls away.
I fix a cup of tea. Pour my own bowl of cereal. Watch as my Trader Joe's brand frosted wheat cereal goes from hard to soft. Force myself to eat the shredded wheat until it's soft instead of rough.
Then I clean up all the dishes. Make another cup of tea. Stare at the text from Brendon on my phone.
Brendon: Spending the night at Walker's place. I'll be home late.
I can still see that look on his face. Like I stabbed him in the gut.
I need to fix this.
But how do I convince him I'm worth trusting again?
That I did it because I want all of him—especially those parts he won't show anyone. Especially the parts he thinks are ugly. Especially the secrets.
I need to prove I can be that person. The one who really sees him. That really lets him see me.
But the thought of confessing that sends shredded wheat back up my throat.
I can barely admit it to myself, much less to him. I have episodes. Where I think about hurting myself. About making everything stop.
I can't even use the word.
It's too ugly.
It scares me.
It will terrify him.
And then...