Shock, yes, and maybe even a bit of awe but not the hatred I had anticipated. Not the disgust. There was no hint that she considered me Shakespeare’s “lump of foul deformity.”
“I remember everything,” I said quietly.
I couldn't look at her. I could still feel her eyes on me, but I kept mine on the open door across the room. I wondered if Greg was asleep by now or if he could have been out in the hallway or maybe even able to hear us talking from his own room. Strangely, the idea didn't really freak me out as much as I thought it would.
“That's why you don't bring anything to class, isn't it?” Nicole surmised. “You aren’t being shitty; you really don't need it.”
“Not if I've already read the chapter,” I told her. I clenched my hand into a fist behind her back. “I don't really need to take notes or anything.”
“And here I thought you were just being a prick.” Nicole let out a short, soft laugh.
For the longest time, she said nothing. I didn't really have anything to add, so I stayed silent as well, letting my mind conjure up all the possible things she might be thinking. The one I kept coming back to was her wanting me to leave. Finally, I couldn't stand it anymore, and I had to know.
“Should I leave?” I asked quietly.
“Leave?” Nicole repeated. “Why would I want you to leave?”
I just shrugged. It was too obvious to voice.
“Thomas?” I felt her fingers on my jaw again as she tilted my head to look at her. “I don't want you to leave.”
“Even though I'm a freak?” I asked.
“Thomas…” She shook her head slowly. Her expression was confused and a little sad. “It doesn't make you a freak.”
With that, she moved closer and pressed her lips against mine. She wrapped her fingers into my hair as she rose and kissed me harder. She pushed me back into the pillow, and I groaned quietly. The pressure of her tongue on my lips was too brief, and she soon backed off and just looked at me. She left her fingers still tightly twined in the hair at the back of my head.
“Why are you so worried?” she asked.
“I didn't think…I thought you would think I was…weird.”
She laughed softly again.
“Thomas,” she said, “you are a little weird. Not in a bad way at all, but you certainly do have a few…idiosyncrasies.”
She kissed me again, and again it was too brief.
“And I kind of like them.”
“You do?” I was a little astonished.
“Yeah, I do.” She propped herself up on her elbow a little, and my hand finally managed to open up to press against her back. She reached over and ran her fingers lightly over my temple and down my jaw. She kept going down my neck, across my shoulder, and finally rested her hand on my bicep, right where the T-shirt ended. “There are some things you do though…”
&
nbsp; Her voice trailed off, and I felt panic welling up in the pit of my stomach.
“What?” I wondered if I really wanted to know. Her hand ran over my arm again.
“You have beautiful arms,” she said quietly. Her finger traced the outline of the muscle there. “But sometimes…how you use them…well, that bothers me.”
My eyes narrowed.
“What do you mean?”
“Every time you get pissed off about something, you start hitting people,” she said. “We were supposed to talk about that, you know.”
“I remember.”