****
“Lunch.” I pushed a pile of food toward Kiersten and watched for a minute as she examined it with distaste. “You have to eat.”
“Not hungry.” She pushed the tray away and crossed her arms over her stomach.
“Bad first few classes?”
She glared.
I held up my hands. “Wanna talk about it?”
“I can’t.” Her face flushed as she looked around the cafeteria. Most everyone was staring at us as if we’d just announced we were going to adopt one of Brad Pitt’s twenty children.
“I’ll take care of it.” I sighed and sent a quick text to James. He hated covering for me, but at least it got people to stop gawking. I watched him across the cafeteria. He looked at his phone, scowled, and then threw his newspaper onto the table. In an instant he was walking toward us, after two or three strides he collapsed onto the floor.
Everyone gasped.
“Okay, so now they aren’t staring.” I nodded to Kiersten, “What happened in class?”
“Is he all right?” She pointed at James.
“Low blood sugar.” I looked away for a brief moment and cleared my throat. “So class?”
“Should we, like, call someone?” She pulled out her cell. I grabbed her wrist and shook my head. “He’ll be fine in about ten minutes or as long as it takes for you to tell me your story.”
“O-okay.” She kept staring at James but at least she was talking. “I raised my hand in class, but the professor reprimanded me for correcting him.”
I winced.
“And I made two new friends.”
I smiled.
She didn’t.
“Let’s just say they’re a bit more friendly than you.”
I swear I saw two deaths by my hands. “Who were they? Did they touch you? Hurt you? I’ll kill them, seriously. I’ll—” I stood and started frantically looking around the cafeteria for any punk freshman that was staring at her cross-eyed.
“Sit down.” She pulled me to my seat and shook her head. “I told them I had a boyfriend, case closed.”
“I meant friends who were girls.” Blood roared in my ears. “Not guys.”
“Well?” She threw her hands into the air in frustration. “They were the only two people that approached me.”
“I bet they were,” I grumbled.
“Wes?”
She called me Wes.
I could die happy.
Most people called me Wes. I hadn’t told her it was okay. It seemed natural. It’s how I’d signed my note.
I was turning into a chick.
My smile grew as her eyes narrowed.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing.” I grabbed her hand and kissed it. “Just happy.”
“That I failed at your little list?”
“No failure.” I shook my head. “You tried and that’s what counts. You need to get out from underneath the cloud.”
Her nostrils flared as she grabbed her bag and stood. “I gotta go.”
“Sit.”
“No.”
“Sit.” I jerked her down to the seat and softly held her hand in mine. I could feel her pulse in her wrist; it was erratic, angry. “I’m not sorry.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You remind me of my brother.”
“Huh?”
“Coma. Died,” I explained. “Overdosed.”
“Gee, thanks,” she said through clenched teeth.
I pushed back the dark thoughts of my brother’s demise, barely holding it together by a thread. “Depressed, talented, awesome, my favorite person in the world… he was all those things. And you — you remind me of him. I don’t know why, but you just do. So yeah, I’m pushing a little, but I think you can take it. Tell me you’re strong enough to take it.”
“You don’t know me.” Her voice was hard. It had an edge to it that I wasn’t used to hearing from girls.
“I do.”
“You. Don’t.”
I released her hand. “Better than you realize. Look, I don’t sugarcoat things, and I sure as hell don’t have time to be that guy. The one who waits for weeks to finally crack all your defenses. I’m different. Maybe I’m too intense. I get that. My methods are crazy. But I’m drawn to you — and honestly, you need me.”
“I don’t need anyone,” she whispered, sounding like she hardly believed herself let alone was capable of convincing anyone else.
“You do,” I said. “And I’ll wait until you say it to my face if that’s what it takes for you to realize it.”
With that, I got up from my seat and left her. I’d keep writing my notes. I’d keep pushing her.
Maybe if I could save her — I let out a rugged breath… maybe in saving her I’d be saving him. I couldn’t then, but I can now.
Chapter Twelve
People should just mind their own business. Right? I mean, how am I his problem?
Kiersten
“Who the hell does he think he is?” I yelled into the phone.
Uncle Jo sighed heavily on the other line. “He sounds like a nice young man, and he does have a point.”
I wanted to throw something against the wall. I pulled out another pill and crunched it between my teeth. It was bitter, but I didn’t care. I needed to feel better. I mean, in theory I knew antidepressants weren’t supposed to be taken like that, but the placebo effect was enough — for now.