His teasing expression is really starting to piss me off. “Answer the question.”
He sighs, drawing the action out far longer than necessary. “I’m passive. That’s all. I’m just a passive person.”
“Ha.” Yeah, right. “Says the boy who rather aggressively coerced me into this chaotic situation.”
“I’m being honest. I float from one interest to the next. And before you get all spiteful about being my current one, let me remind you that was never hidden. Whatever pricks up on my radar, I embrace. And then it dies. And I keep floating.” His eyes never leave the road, even as his smile deflates and melancholy takes hold. “Don’t get me wrong. I love acting. It’s one of the few things that’s dynamic enough to continue holding my interest. Yes, complications are holding me back from putting my full heart into this. No, I won’t bore you with my life story.”
The solemn sort of way he says so interests me more than the words themselves. It’s the tone. The pictures of the world reflecting in his green eyes. My murmur comes unbidden. “That’s a shame. I rather like stories.”
Lex pulls off the main road, easing the car to a crawl that’s slow enough to allow him to take his eyes off the windshield and pin them on me while we drift through a vacant parking lot in front of an ice cream shop. Finding a spot, he turns the car off, then he rests his wrists over the wheel and watches me.
Feeling heated beneath his stare, I clear my throat. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Stop staring at me if it’s nothing,” I mutter.
He hums, pulling his gaze away and unlocking the car. As he steps out, he notes, “I like your attention.”
I open my door and get out with a scoff. “Yeah. Whose attentiondon’tyou like?”
“Agatha’s.” His nose scrunches, and his eyes roll, and my stomach flutters, but he breezes along like he hasn’t just confirmed I’m not insane for not being fond of her either. “No, I mean there’s something different about your attention. Like it’s really worth having.” He laughs. “Sorry. That probably doesn’t make any sense. It just seems like it’s hard to get, so it’s a more unique commodity?”
I wish I didn’t understand. I wish I didn’t feel the same way. While Lex Hawthorn is practically known for being that “one flamboyant rich kid” at college, he doesn’t really consistently bother with anyone. The harsh rumors are just as much a reflection of his arrogant manners as they are a response to soften the blow of his rejection.
Sighing, I say, “It makes sense. Same to you.”
“Well, thank you.”
Toying with the tip of one of my braids, I keep pace with him as we stride toward the shop. “I don’t know if it’s really a compliment.”
Without missing a beat, he murmurs, “I meant it as one.”
“Oh.” My whole body feels like it really is in dire need of some ice cream suddenly, so I drop my braid and focus all my energy on the menu, trying desperately to forget everything about the audition and what my life will look like now that everything has changed.
Lex
~~~~~~~~~~~~
I never received an update about your classes last week.
Anger, hard and real, creates a tight lump inside my body. Whenever I try to pinpoint it, crush it down, and make it go away—because it doesn’t matter and is hardly productive—where that anger lives changes.
At first, it builds in my throat, and I want to cry.
Then, it sinks into my stomach and makes me sick.
Finally, it seems to settle in my chest, either my lungs or my heart, and I can’t reach it there without cutting through everything I am.
I take a harsh breath and scroll endlessly through social media on my phone, trying to numb everything out and make the thoughts go away.
They don’t.
I never received an update about your classes last week.
Of course you didn’t, I want to scream. I’ve been busy. It’s the first real week of school, and I’ve found a new interest that actually makes me excited to go even on the days we don’t share a class. The mere idea of brushing paths, seeing Calypso from afar, or putting another tiny piece of whatever she is into place brightens the moments when I’m up too late and up too early juggling everything else.
Of courseI’ve notupdatedmy father about my classes. Grades haven’t even been submitted for anything yet. I don’t know what he wants from me.
