I expect her to stop interacting with me, so she surprises me when she says, “You’ve never read anything I’ve written, so how could you possibly know that?”
Not entirely true, but I’m not about to declare that to her. When I first saw Emery, she’d thrown a handful of shredded journal pages out her window. I picked them up and caught a glimpse of a few of them. She wrote about her brother in such a way that I wondered if something tragic happened to him. After a crazy night with Doc, I learned that Emery’s brother is in a coma because of a heroin addiction.
“True.” I inch closer to her when the professor enters the classroom. Her body stiffens from my nearness, but I only inch closer, breathing in her scent. She smells fucking amazing, like vanilla and apples. “But I’ve seen how intense you get when you write. That much intensity has to come out pretty well on pages.”
“Everyone’s intense when they write,” she utters quietly. “You are.”
I offer her a lopsided smile that feels faker than my persona. “But I’m an excellent writer, so that just proves my point.”
A trace of a smile touches her lips but then she starts biting her nails, a nervous habit of hers. “I don’t want to be mad at you.”
My heart squeezes in my chest like a vice grip. “Then don’t be.”
“I have to,” she whispers, her eyes wide. “You told him we went out.”
“I had to,” I press back, silently begging: please, please understand. “I don’t have a choice.”
“I’m starting to learn how wrong that statement is,” she mutters with a frown. “We always have a choice. Sometimes the choices just suck.”
I sigh heavily. “I don’t know what else to say besides I’m sorry.”
She shrugs, fiddling with the top button on her red tank top. “There’s really not much else you can say. I get it. You had to do your job. I just don’t know why you made such a big deal about me keeping our outing a secret when you were planning on telling him.”
“I wasn’t planning on telling him.” I let the partial truth slip out, again wondering how the fuck Doc knew we went out. Does he have someone watching us? I haven’t seen any suspicious cars around lately, but there are still lots of places for people to hide around our apartment complex. But if someone is watching us, why? “It just happened.”
“I get it,” she says sadly, folding her arms on top of her desk. “Your job is really important to you, and being on my father’s good side is really important to your job.”
You don’t get it! You really don’t. If I had my way, I’d pick you over the job for your father. I’d pick it a thousand times over.
“How can I make it up to you?” I sign, my shoulders sagging. “Or is there not a way?”
She ponders my question, thrumming her finger against her lip. Then, her gaze falls to my paper, and she perks up a smidgeon. “Can I see what you wrote?”
I glance down at my paper then back at her. Most of the stuff I write is personal, and usually I don’t share with anyone unless I have to. This is a class project, though, which means the professor is going to read it. Besides, if I let her see it, then maybe I’ll earn back a little of her trust.
“Sure.” I hand the paper to her, but don’t release it from my gasp when she grabs it. I mouth, “Can I read yours, too?”
She rolls her tongue in her mouth, her eyes drifting to the paper in front of her. “I guess so.”
“No, never mind. You don’t have to.” This is about me earning her trust, not the other way around.
“No, it’s okay. We should probably know what the other one wrote, anyway, since this is a partner project.” Sighing, she picks up her paper and gives it to me.
I let go of mine, sit back in the chair, and begin to read what she wrote.
The guy I never knew,
a statue sitting across the room.
So flawlessly put together,
smooth imperfect pieces
that somehow create harmony.
His lips are the sanctuary to his soul,
never to utter the truth of the scars hidden inside,
begging to be free.
Or maybe not.
Perhaps they’ve sealed themselves up purposefully.
Silence.
Silence.
Silence.
If you listen closely, you can hear the whisper of his heart.
Silence.
Silence.
Silence.
The rhythm is what I crave.
An addiction
I can no longer feed.
Silence.
Silence.
Silence.
I wonder what it would whisper if he were free.
There’s more to it, but class starts before I can finish. Emery snatches the paper from me, and returns mine. Our fingers graze during the exchange, my skin burning as our gazes interlock.
Want, want, want, my heart beats the truth. Want all you want, but can never have you. You and Emery were never meant to be.
God, how the truth stings.
Chapter 6
Bloodstained Ribbons and Lace
Emery
I want to hate Ryler. I want to hate him because he chose my father over me, but hating him is proving to be a difficult task. With Ryler sitting beside me, class seems endless, especially after reading the paper he wrote for class.
Emery, Emery, Emery,
So beautiful.
Lips so kissable.
Eyes so haunting.
Soft skin that begs my fingers closer.
Like a red rose,
she flourishes for the whole world.
But even though the rose thrives
through sunlight
and rain,
the rose is wilting.
Around the edges,
in desperate need of air.
Withering.
And the whole world simply watches.
As petal after petal falls
to the ground.
What I wouldn’t give to pick each one up
and put them back.
Help her flourish again.
But I’m helpless,
bound by my silence.