I’m fucking running to relieve stress. What the hell have I become? My therapist, Dr. Tucker, tells me that workouts release endorphins that make one feel good—a natural high, if you will. Clearly, he’s never done hard drugs because they don’t compare. You know what else gives one a natural high? Sex. And I’m not having that either.
My days are spent trying to better myself and begging Alma to love me. That about sums up my life. There are only a couple of days left of school, and I’m not sure what she’s doing for the summer, so I’m starting to feel desperate. I don’t know what else to do. I fucked up. I know it. Alma knows it. Everyone who knows me knows it. So, my options are limited.
I can buy Alma the fucking world and rip my heart open for her to see, and she still doesn’t have to love me back. I can’t make her do anything. Her feisty spirit and willpower have always been two of my favorite things about her, but I’m not loving them so much anymore.
I scan the pictures of Alma and me in my phone, hoping that one of them sparks some more gift ideas. I’m running out of things to send her. I’m a phone call away from buying her a car because I know she needs one badly. I’m afraid that gift would do more to push her away from me than toward me. She’s accepted all of my gifts thus far, but I think she’d see a car as too much. She’s prideful, my little firecracker. Her success is her own, and I don’t want any of my gifts to make her feel less than.
Closing out of my phone, I stand from the couch and head for the door. I need food. The extreme amount of exercise makes me hungry all the damn time. I normally have my meals delivered, but a change in scenery is needed. The walls of my house feel like they’re closing in every second that she’s not there.
Luca’s chili-cheese fries always make things better. The bell chimes when I open the door. Her deep browns widen when they see me, but a smile doesn’t find my lips. Why is she here? She looks exhausted, beautiful as always but completely beat. She has bags under her eyes, and the sight almost causes me to lose my shit. What in the world is going on?
I inhale deep and take a seat. This was going to be a carryout run, but now that I’ve seen her …
She sets a plastic glass of water down in front of me. “Hey,” she says softly. “The usual?”
“You work here?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?” I attempt to keep the edge out of my voice, but I fail as the question comes up clipped and demanding.
She chews on her bottom lip and sighs. “I need the money, Leo. I’m out of the dorms in three days, and I need more than I’ve saved with tutoring.”
I take her hand in mine, and she flinches before the corner of my lips tilts up slightly. I endeavor to make my words communicate the concern I feel but not the anger over the fact that she is struggling and didn’t come to me.
“You look really tired, Alma.”
She has to know I would do anything for her.
“It’s just the past two weeks. I’ve picked up hours with tutoring to help students study for exams and complete final projects. Plus, I’m finishing my own assignments and studying for exams. Then, I’ve been working here as much as I can because I only have three days until I need to find a place. You don’t have to worry about me. I haven’t gotten enough sleep as usual, but classes are almost over. I’ll be fine.”
I don’t say everything I want to say. I want to yell and tell her that she’s killing herself when I could be helping her. It would be nothing for me to help her. She shouldn’t be picking up extra tutor shifts. She shouldn’t be working here. She shouldn’t be stressing about money when I would give her everything if she’d take it. She should be studying for her exams, getting extra sleep, and enjoying her last weeks as a freshman. I’m so fucking livid at her, at me. How did I not know she was struggling? I didn’t know because I’ve never wanted for a dime my entire life. It didn’t even cross my