It burns to admit that I’d taken advantage of it. It burns worse to know that it hadn’t been entirely unrequited, even if I was too loyal to Emory to really let it grow into something worth pursuing.
“I did, you know.” I look her in the eye when I say it, because this is all I can give her. “I did like you being there.”
She smiles sadly. “That’s nice to know.”
I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t spent the last few weeks fighting the urge to wonder ‘what if’. What if that night had never happened? Would we have eventually ended up together? Where would we be right now, and what kind of people would we have become, in that impossible alternate reality? Better people, for sure. Unbroken people.
I reach down to retrieve my ice pack, pushing a hiss through my clenched teeth at the pain in my shoulder.
She steps forward, like maybe she’s about to grab it for me, but steps back just as quick. “I saw you at practice, while I was waiting for Em.” Matter-of-factly, she notes, “You got hurt.”
“Just a bruise.” I press the ice pack to my shoulder, but I can’t quite reach it. “Courtesy of Shackleford’s cleat.”
She follows me into the living room, where I’m finally able to wedge the ice pack between my shoulder and the back of the couch. She shifts around uncomfortably for a moment, still holding the plate. Whatever is under that foil smells like meat, cheese, and pure ecstasy. Any other night, I might actually have an appetite for it.
“I brought you some leftovers, because…” She sets the plate on the coffee table, gently lowering herself to perch on the couch beside me. “Well, just because.”
I know the truth. Because I never have food. Because it’s an apology. Because Vandy is better than me, able to stand here and give me two apologies for something I deserved when I can’t even bring myself to apologize for almost fucking killing her.
I’m the living embodiment of scum.
My small, “Thank you,” comes out rough and inadequate.
“Can I see?” She goes for my sleeve, her hot fingers grazing my skin.
I jerk away, abruptly. “See what?”
Her hand freezes midway between us. “Your bruise. It looked like it hurt pretty badly.”
The thought of her seeing my back makes me feel physically ill. It’s a permanent reminder of what happened that night, less visible than her limp, but still my cross to bear. It’s horrific, gruesome, and in no way should usurp her own pain and injury. I don’t want her pity any more than she wants mine. “I can’t,” I say.
Her forehead creases, hand dropping to her lap. “Why?”
My hair is already a mess because I hadn’t washed it after practice. I run my fingers through it now, agitated, thinking that it makes me sick, but that if anyone is entitled to see it, it’s the girl sitting next to me. It’s not an apology, but maybe it’s… something, this evidence that I didn’t come away from that night without its gnarled mark upon me. I grab the hem of my shirt and elbow it up my chest, pulling it roughly over my head. Her eyes follow the motion, darting down to my chest, my defined stomach. I hold her gaze for a long moment, seeing her confusion at the resignation I’m wearing.
I twist around, presenting it to her like some disgusting gift.
Her sharp intake of breath is so soft, that if I hadn’t been waiting for it, I might not have heard it at all. She’s still on the couch, and I can feel the heat of her eyes taking it in. I know what she sees. A wide swath of deformed skin, gnarled like melted vinery. There’s a three-inch square on my right shoulder that’s smoother than the rest, but no less grotesque. Near my collar, there’s an indentation where the tag of my shirt had melted into my skin. It’s hideous.
I feel her move, and even though I know what’s coming, I still flinch when her fingertips graze the scar. “I didn’t know,” she breathes, voice strained. “No one told me it was this bad.”
“It wasn’t.” It’s all at once the truth and a lie. The scars are bad. The injury was nothing. Not in comparison.
“Is this…?” She touches my right shoulder, and I nod.
“Skin graft.”
“Where did they—”
“My thigh.”
She asks, “Does it hurt?” fingertips, trailing to the left shoulder.