Simon bought those books, and he bought them for me. He did, didn’t he?
My heart hammers inside my chest as I look at where he was standing before, in a corner, leaning against the wall. Kind of scowling but not really. But he isn’t there anymore. He’s gone.
“Oh God, where did you go?” I mutter to myself.
I feel such a visceral loss as I spin around, searching for him. Such a visceral, massive loss for someone who’s only left a room. Strangely, it feels like he left my life. And I’m still here. I’m not even gone yet.
I still have one day.
I need to find him. I need to tell him. He needs to know how I feel.
Because I know how he feels.
Because I know he was going to say it before everything went to hell in such a dramatic fashion. I can’t lose faith now when I’ve been such a believer this past week.
My feet start moving and I’m out the door before I can really think about what I’m doing. I left my eighteenth birthday party too. That night I wanted to jump and fall dead to the ground, just so I could shut up the voices.
Today as well, my voices are loud, and they are telling me to jump. They are telling me to take a leap.
And I’m doing it. I’m taking a leap of faith, hoping that he won’t let me fall and die. Hoping that he’ll catch me.
I find his retreating figure in the hallway, and I call out his name, stopping him in his tracks. He turns around and there he is.
Simon, the love of my life. A life that’s always plagued me. A life I’ve always wanted to end. A life I’ll always want to end, but I’ll fight. I’ll do what I have to do to stay alive because it’s mine.
And he’s mine too.
He frowns. “Willow.”
His voice clenches my heart and makes my legs tremble with all the love, as I approach him.
“Can I please talk to you? In your office?”
“Actually, I –”
“Please,” I say, cutting him off. I’m not going to let him hide from me. Not right now.
There’s a tic in his jaw, a pulse that indicates that he’s going to refuse me. But, surprisingly and to my relief, he nods.
I follow him to his office and when he holds the door open, I step over the threshold.
Simon is still at the door, though. “Can I help you with something? I’m a little –”
I spin around to face him. “Who’s Claire?”
Okay, so that wasn’t my plan.
I don’t exactly know what my plan was, honestly. But it wasn’t this. It wasn’t to blurt this out and have him go all rigid on me.
He’s gone completely cold and almost menacing, and his voice isn’t any better than it was yesterday when he asked me to get out of his office. “What?”
I can either take it back or I can roll with it. Fisting my hands on my sides, I decide to go for it. What’s the worst thing that can happen?
Well, no. I’m not going there.
Happy thoughts.
“Who is she?” I swallow “Y-you got the phone call yesterday and since then things have been weird. I –”
“Is that all?”
There’s no movement on his body. I don’t even think he moved his lips when he said that. It’s so unnerving to be standing here in front of him, jittery and shaky when he’s so still and immobile.
“I’m sorry?”
A clench on his jaw, at last. Some sign that he hasn’t frozen over.
“Is that all?” he repeats slowly, something flashing across his features. “Because if it is, I have a lot of work to do. So, you need to leave.”
I take in a deep breath. There’s a humming in my stomach. A swarm of butterflies and bees and wasps and dragonflies. It’s a full-on plague and I want to press my hand there to calm it down. But that will mean showing him my weakness and I can’t do that. Not now.
“Who is she?” I ask again. “Why did you turn all, I don’t know, icy and unapproachable? Who is she, Simon? I, honestly –”
“I’m asking you to leave. Right now.”
“Tell me who she is, Simon.”
“Who she is, is none of your business.” He hasn’t moved an inch from the door. Still, I feel him and his almost-lashing voice from somewhere close. “Do you understand me?”
“I have a right to know,” I say, my heartbeats getting louder and louder.
Yes, I do.
I do. I do. I do.
Please don’t make me a liar. Please tell me who she is.
“Excuse me?”
God, has he ever looked more ferocious than this? His brows are bunched up and his jaw is clamped so tight. And his eyes? His eyes are shards of darkness, glinting and so intense.
Every second that passes makes me even more agitated and scared. I mean, I wasn’t expecting him to be receptive of my words, but I didn’t think he’d be so clammed up and tightly fisted, either.