Bared Souls - Ellie Wade Page 0,27
that you saw that. I never wanted you to.” His beautiful blues look upset, and I find myself believing him.
“It’s fine. Whatever, right?”
“Yeah,” he answers softly, and we continue walking toward the library.
Once inside the study room, Leo pulls out his binder and laptop, and we work on one of his assignments.
“You have a lot of missing assignments,” I note.
“Well, I missed a lot of school.”
I want to ask him why, but it’s not my business. What Leo does in his free time isn’t my concern. I repeat that thought over and over in my mind.
“How’s your first month of school been? Are you liking Eastern?” Leo asks, and I snap my head toward him, raising an eyebrow.
Who is he trying to be? Sure, the questions are normal enough if they came from anyone else’s mouth, but coming from Leo, they seem odd, forced.
“What’s going on? I don’t understand this back and forth. You’re interested in me, and then you’re not. You warn me away from you, and then you’re kissing me. You’re sweet, and then you’re short with me. Now, you’re asking generic questions about my time at Eastern like you’re some distant family member inquiring about college life. You give me whiplash, and I can’t do this with you anymore. I’m not cut out for this.” I motion my hand between us. “I can’t be friends or anything else. I’m going to work with you on your English assignments, and that’s all.”
“You’re right,” he simply agrees and directs his attention back to the laptop.
His two-worded response bothers me. I pretend that I don’t want him to fight back, to say something—anything—that would make sense. I pretend that I wanted him to agree with me. I pretend that everything in me doesn’t want to reach out and grab his hand, just to feel his skin. I pretend because admitting the truth would be a betrayal of who I am and who I want to be.
I close my eyes and breathe in through my nose in an attempt to calm my nerves.
Leo’s typing stops.
“What are you doing?” he asks me, his voice hoarse.
I snap my eyes open. “What?”
“Why are your eyes closed?”
“I was just thinking. It’s nothing.” I wave my hand in front of me.
Leo’s face falls, and it causes my chest to ache. He looks at the time on his phone and packs up.
He stands to leave, and I follow suit. He grabs ahold of the door handle but doesn’t turn it. Instead, he drops his hand and spins to face me.
“Do you feel this connection between us?” he asks.
“No,” I lie.
“Well, I do, and I hate it—not because of you, but because of me. You see, Alma, even if I wanted to, I can’t be with you. Can’t … do anything. You’re off-limits. Because I see you. Maybe you don’t believe me, but I do. You’re kind and good and smart and beautiful. I’m none of those things. In fact, someone like me would ruin those things in you. I would destroy you, Alma. I wouldn’t want to, but I would. And that’s why, no matter how many times I see you in my dreams, I can’t run to you when I wake because I’d hurt you.”
He presses his lips into a line and pulls in a breath through his nose. I simply stand across from him, silent. I can’t find words to say in response. I’m at a loss.
“I’m finding it difficult to be around you. When I’m my typical asshole self, I end up feeling bad for treating you that way. Though, when I try the friends route and you gift me with a smile, I want you even more, and that shit hurts. Being around you hurts, Alma, and I don’t know how to make the pain stop.” He flattens his palm against his chest.
The rawness in his words resonates down to my soul.
“Leo.” His name is a whisper.
His hand leaves his chest, and he presses his finger against my lips.
He drops his hand. “I’m sorry,” he utters quietly before turning and walking out.
FOURTEEN
Alma
The lines of trees beyond the cut pastures are vibrant with beauty. The ever-changing colors of autumn are my favorite. The sun shines bright in the pristine blue sky. Today is perfection. Warm and windy, it’s one of the days that Mother Nature gifts us Michiganders to keep us here. She’s smart, that one.
I stare out the passenger car window, dreading what’s to come. I’m spending one of our rare perfect days