“If I must.”
“By the way,” Paige calls out from her bedroom door, “I told DeeDee if she wants to take the couch until she gets her new apartment, it’s fine with me.”
Paige’s door closes, and it’s like the thud of the wood against the frame shifts the balance of the atmosphere. Something’s lying dormant here, something waiting for an excuse to wake up.
When DeeDee speaks, her voice is soft, eyes lowered to the coffee table.
“I don’t have to stay.”
“I want you to stay.” Even I’m startled by the force in my tone, so strained it’s close to anger. “I just...”
I set my beer down and spread my hands wide, indicating the magnitude of everything I can’t explain.
“I know it is a lot for me to be here. You have to work, and—”
“DeeDee, it’s not that.” I drag a hand over my eyes. All the frustration, all the confusion—it’s all coming out faster than I can stop it. “It’s not you. You are...You are the farthest thing from being a burden. I just...”
Her shoulders are slumped now, and I can’t take the sight of it. I can’t take the sight of her when she gets all small and shattered like this. I get up off my chair and sit beside her on the couch.
“Hey.” I force myself to sound as gentle as possible. “Hey. Look at me.”
That was a mistake. Her brown eyes lock on mine, and it’s like we’re back in the bathroom again, like the air between us has been set on fire and we have no choice but to breathe it in. She swallows, and the movement of her throat is hypnotic, but it doesn’t take my focus off her eyes.
This whole building could be falling down, and I wouldn’t be able to look away from those eyes.
“DeeDee.” Her name comes out as a raspy plea. I sound like I’m begging, and maybe I am. “I just need to know I’m not crazy. Please. Just tell me that.”
“Maybe w-we...” Her lips are trembling too much for her to speak. She presses them together for a few seconds before trying again. “Maybe we arebothcrazy.”
“Do you feel this? Right now. This. Do you feel this?”
This is the point of no return. Somewhere inside me, I recognize there will be no going back after this, but I can’t focus on anything except how desperate I am for her answer. Everything hangs on that.
“Yes, but—”
Two words. Just two damn tiny little words, yet the first is enough to lift me up only to have the second send me crashing back down.
“We can’t. This...we can’t. You’re not—”
“What am I not?” I sit up straighter. “Tell me what I’m not, and I’ll be it. Tell me what it would take. Please, I—”
A lump rises in my throat, forcing me to stop.
“You are not the kind of person I want to do this to, Zach. I...” I notice her twisting that ring she always wears around her finger. “It never goes well. I try so hard, and it never does. Something iswrongwith me, and I...I...”
Tears are gathering in the corners of her eyes, and I know I should stop. I know I should tell her everything’s all right, tell her I’m here, tell her I’m her friend.
But I always do that. I alwaysfuckingdo that.
“DeeDee, what...what do you think you’re going to do to me? Hurt me? Ruin our friendship? This, right now—this hurts. The not knowing. The questioning, the doubting, the up and down where I wonder and hope and convince myself I’m wrong. You...You know, don’t you? You know what I feel. You always have, haven’t y—”
She lunges forward and presses her hand over my mouth, tears streaking down her cheeks. “Don’t. Don’t say it.”
Her hand starts to fall away, but I grab it and press my lips to her fingers. It may not be how I’ve always imagined it happening, but this is the first time my mouth is touching her skin, and I pour everything I have into that single point of contact, hoping—prayingeverything I feel will somehow pass between us.
“What are you scared of?” I whisper, head still bent over her fingers. “Tell me what’s making you so scared.”
I see it now: the fear. She’s shaking with it, desperate enough not to hear the words that she’s trying to shove them back down my throat.
