The Lonely (The Lonely 1)

"Orange Pekoe?"

I wrinkle my nose, "Blech. Worse."

He shakes his head, "Em, that’s a travesty." The way he says travesty is funny. As if my not liking tea is comparable to the travesties of war and famine.

"Ice cream?" I say.

He nods, "I know a place."

I grip onto him for a minute and then pass him the hand sani. He chuckles and squirts. "How does Michelle do it? My hands are so dry I barely take it."

I laugh, "She wears nighttime moisturizer in a glove." I shudder at the thought of the creamy hands and wash myself and the container again.

I can't help but wonder if he notices the way I wash him off everything the same way I do Shell. We walk for a long time until we come to a place called Emack and Bolio's. He opens the door and puts his hand on my lower back. I'm a fan of that kind of touch. Even through the hoodie, that’s three or four sizes too big, I can feel the heat of his hand. It makes me shiver, in a good way.

"Be right back." I say and walk to the bathroom. I send a message when I am alone in a stall.

'At Bolio and Emack's. Ice cream.'

'Thank you for messaging me. Get the S'Moreo. Divine. Try paying for a meal too. No one likes a girl who doesn’t pay for anything'

I gasp, 'I don’t have money. I have your money. So technically you're still paying and technically I'm not.'

'We aren’t having this conversation again'

'Whatever'

He doesn’t bite. He's gone.

I grab toilet paper for the door handle and head to where he's ordering. He smiles at me. Not as hard as the girl behind the counter smiles at him. "What kind of ice cream do you like?" He asks.

I don't look at the girl, "S'Moreo."

He turns and grins, "Can you scrape the top layer of the S'Moreo off and get her two scoops of the stuff closer to the bottom." He looks back at me, "Fudge sauce?"

I nod. He looks back, "Fudge sauce as well please. I'm going to get the Almond Coconut Bar, also with fudge sauce please."

She flutters her eyelashes, "Two scoops?"

He nods, "Please."

He hands her money and points to the small table in the corner. I sit and wonder if my face is covered in shock.

He frowns, "What?"

I shake my head, "Nothing. So, Almond Coconut Bar?" I inner sigh at my question and the amount of interest I placed in it. I ask stupid questions when I get uncomfortable. The ice cream place is new.

He grins, "Love almonds and coconut." He makes a face, "S'Moreo? What are you ten-years old?"

I laugh and look down, "A friend recommended it." I look back up at him, "You ordered my ice cream the way I would have ordered it?"

He looks confused, "It's not hard to guess. I watched you make a sandwich at my house. The mayonnaise was brand-new and you opened it, took off the sealed protector cover and then took the entire top layer of it off. You pulled the meat out of the fridge and saw the seal was broken. I watched you. You put it back and cooked bacon for the sandwich instead."

I bite my lip and process it, "You watch me a lot." I wonder what else he's seen. It gets bad some days. I hope he hasn’t seen those moments.

He nods, "I do. I like you. You won't give me your cell phone number because you say you don’t ever use it. But you text Michelle a million times a day and tell her everything you're doing. You won't sleep at my house and never let me drive you home. You kiss me like you're trying to kill me, but back off and won't let me touch you. You always run when you've let me get just a little bit further with you."

I feel sick and panicked until he finishes his thought.

"You have me completely enchanted and bewildered and mixed up. I can't eat or sleep without wondering what you're doing. I watch you like a stalker would." He puts a hand out, "I am not a stalker for the record." I laugh. He runs his hands through his hair, "But I'm addicted to you. I get excited every time we move just a bit further. I know something happened to you and your life has been weird and horrid in a lot of ways. I just want to be the good thing in it. I want to protect you and make you feel safe."

My face is on fire. The girl delivers the sundaes, but I stare forward and think about what he's said. He wants to be the good thing. He wants to be in my life. I haven’t run him off. He sees it and still wants me.

Instead of focusing on the cute boy, my OCD catches a glimpse of the ice cream girl's gloved hands. I forget what he said and feel better about my ice cream. My natural defense is a well-oiled machine. It shuts down anything that makes me think.

She plunks them down and leaves.

I look at him and am speechless. His eyes search mine. When I offer up nothing, he leans in and mutters, "The service here is shit but the ice cream is yummy." I can see he's upset by the lack of response. I know I would be if it were he not saying anything. I honestly have nothing I can share back.

I twirl the spoon in the ice cream and fudge sauce. "Thank you." I say after a minute.

"For what?"

I look at him and want so badly to say the million things I'm thinking, "For the sundae." I sigh.

He smirks, "You're welcome." I close my eyes and take a bite. The flavor coats my tongue. It's an escape. It always was. Once a month we would get ice cream. Always the huge tub of the cheap stuff, but it was ice cream and I was a kid.

I decide to give him what I can. It's not much but if he knew the significance he would be excited. "The first memory I have is ice cream." My voice is small compared to the sound of the music in the restaurant, and the few other people talking.

"Really? I think mine is my father taking me to the zoo." He bounces back so quickly.

I nod, "I was seven. I had been at the orphanage for a while, but I don’t remember anything, before the ice cream. I just remember being walked to a table. The nun was pinching my arm. I had done something bad. I don’t remember what. I sat down and there it was, a white bowl filled with bright pink ice cream. The nun took it and walked away. I sat there, devastated obviously. I could hear the clanking and clinking of everyone else's spoons against the porcelain bowls, as they scraped and spooned and ate. I could almost taste the cold ice cream. I knew what it was. I wasn’t allowed any though. It was the last time I misbehaved. I made up my mind then, I would be the perfect child. I would do what they wanted. I wanted the ice cream so badly. There was a girl named Susan. She was perfect, always the best child. I watched her. I wanted to be her. So I did everything she did from that day on. So the next month, when we got ice cream, I got a huge bowl. More than the other kids. It wasn’t pink. It was chocolate."

I have never shared a memory with another person. Except Dr. Bradley but somehow she seems to know my memories better than I do.

He takes a bite and smoothes his mouth over the spoonful, leaving a mound behind. "That's the saddest thing I've ever heard I think."

I shrug, "It wasn’t sad though. It was motivating. It was like what your uncle's friend said. It was a baby step out of my comfort zone."

His eyes light up, "You should try to sleep at my house. Tonight." His lips play with a grin. He's trying to cheer me up.

But I panic. I drop my spoon in the bowl. It's instant discomfort and an increase in my heart rate.

He puts a hand out, "Slow down. Just stop and think. It's nothing more than sleeping. Nothing."

I shake my head, "No."

"Come back and watch a movie? Just snuggle?"

I laugh nervously. My heart is still thumping wildly. I nod, "Okay. Just a movie." I remind myself he is the cure to the lonely and chances are it's going to be a long night at my place if I go home. Michelle will leave and go be with Stuart.

I can't eat any more ice cream. I push the bowl away. I send a quick text, 'Going to his place. Night'

He doesn’t answer me. He's still pissed about the whatever and the money talk.

"You done?" Sebastian looks confused.

I nod.

"Did I push you too hard?"

I nod again, "It's okay. I need pushes. You're the only one who challenges my quirks."

He smiles and stands. He takes my hand, without cleaning. His hand is a bit sticky. I could die but I force myself to let him. He drags me from the restaurant. We walk back to his place quickly.

"Romance or horror or comedy or drama?"

I shrug, "I don’t know. I've only seen a few movies."

He smiles, "I have just the thing."

Back at his apartment I discover, 'just the thing' is actually a movie I've seen and love. I don’t tell him. I let him turn it on and pretend to be surprised. I've literally seen like twenty movies in my life and he picks the one I love. It warms my heart, as does his reasoning for picking it. It's his little sister's favorite movie.

The movie is called Amelie. It's French and I adore it. It's romantic and fun and I wish I were her. She reminds me of Michelle in a lot of ways.

"Audrey Tautou is probably one of the most beautiful women in the world." I whisper as the movie starts. He pulls me in close to him. The hardness of his body is somehow comfortable. I love the feel of where our bodies meet. The heat that lies in the crease between us could light up the world.

"She's not as beautiful as you are." He whispers. I smile, "Liar." He laughs.

He tilts my face up and kisses me. In the flickering lights of the movie I forget who I am. I let his arms encompass me. I let his body wrap around mine. He pulls me in, kissing desperately. His hands move in a way that’s new. They're driven and hungry. Like mine. We match for a change. His hand slowly drags my shirt up my back. I moan into his mouth. He slides himself against me. The hardness of him is everywhere. It's heady and rich. My hands are in his hair, pulling at him, dragging him onto me. It hits before I realize. I've pulled off my shirt. My bra and naked skin are rubbing against his sweater. He pulls it off and that’s when I notice it. The sickening feeling filling up my stomach.