“My mother is.”
“Makes you British too. Genetics, you know.” She smiles but winces when I move the ice pack around.
“Sorry,” I murmur. She moves too much, and I grab her other shoulder to make her stand still. Her skin is warm under my touch, her breath fanning my neck—that’s how close we are. “Yes, I guess it makes me British.”
“You don’t sound too thrilled,” she notices quietly.
“It’s not something I’m exactly proud of.”
Somehow, she knows I’m not talking about my nationality, so she switches her attention to what she assumes might be a safer topic.
“Where is your dad?” Her tone is careful, probing, like with a cornered animal.
“Dead.”
“Oh.” An awkward silence. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, me too.” I take the ice pack off and see that the bruise has settled. There’s nothing much I can do at this point.
But I press the ice back on and hold her shoulder with my other hand, unwilling to let her go just yet.
“You should have let me go at him,” I complain as I see the color it’s taking.
“It wouldn’t change the fact that my shoulder was already hurt. If you were let loose, you’d end up hurting yourself and me more.”
I rear back, shocked to my very core. “I would never hurt you.”
“Hurting yourself would hurt me.” She shrugs and pulls her shoulder away from the ice. “I’m cold; it should be good now.”
“Yeah.” I drop the ice on the table but don’t step away. She doesn’t either.
“I was scared for you when your face changed.”
“My face changed?” I repeat, confused.
“Yeah,” she nods and licks her lips, “your face went blank. You know, like you weren’t even there. I didn’t like it.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” I make a move to back away, but she grabs my forearm and stops me.
“I wasn’t scaredofyou, I was scaredforyou,” she whispers, her eyes focused on mine.
I look at her—she’s so much smaller and so much younger. Her light is bright, and I’m too dark for her. No matter how much I want to bathe in the rays of her sunshine, I have to step away just so I won’t overshadow it with my darkness.
Alex was right; I have too much baggage for someone like her. The temptation is too strong, she is too desirable, and I just know that she easily can bethatreason for me. The reason to live. But I can’t do that to her. I’m the definition of toxic at its worst. Eventually, I’ll dim that light in her eyes, and we’ll both hate me.
So, I take a step back and gently remove my hand from her arm.
“You shouldn’t have been. You don’t know me enough to worry.” Another step back. “You should go home, Leila. Keep icing your shoulder and go see a doctor if it still hurts tomorrow.”
Her face changes: her little nostrils flare, and her lips turn thin. She grabs her sweater and pulls it back on before grabbing her purse and marching away, sending me an evil look on the way out.
“Coward,” she says under her breath as she passes me.
I can’t even blame her. I am a coward, but sending her away was the bravest thing I’ve ever done.
Chapter Ten
LEILA
