The Boy Who Has No Belief - Victoria Quinn Page 0,70

me.

If Lizzie weren’t with me, I would stop by his penthouse and see him myself, but I knew I couldn’t overstep my boundaries and break his privacy just because I was anxious to know everything was okay. I would have to let it go.

“Maybe he can come over tomorrow.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

We were in front of the TV that evening, and even though Lizzie always wanted to stay up late on the weekends, she was knocked out by nine. She was sleeping on the couch, the blanket draped over her, her ponytail up on the pillow behind her.

I pulled out my phone and texted Derek. I hadn’t stopped thinking about what he said to me that afternoon, and it was consuming me. You think you can come over for dinner tomorrow? I didn’t want to be clingy and anxious, but I was anxious. He told me it didn’t bother him when I was blunt with my thoughts and feelings, so I didn’t try to be diplomatic.

He didn’t say anything.

Derek?

This weekend just doesn’t work for me. I’ll see you on Monday.

It was like a punch to the stomach, knocking all the air out of my lungs. My eyes sank in disappointment. I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t want to have this conversation over text message.

I had my mom hang out with Lizzie the next day so I could go to Derek’s penthouse by myself. I couldn’t wait until Monday to have this conversation, to talk him through whatever he was struggling with. It sounded like more than a simple falling-out between two friends. Whatever happened was intense.

I knocked on his door.

No answer.

I knocked again. “Derek, it’s me.”

It was at least thirty seconds before his footsteps were audible on the other side of the door. Locks were turned and then he opened it. He didn’t give me a warm reception, no slight smile, no affection in his gaze. His eyes were lidded with irritation, like we were back in time when I was just an annoying pest that wouldn’t go away.

It hurt.

He continued to stare at me and didn’t invite me inside.

“Can I come in or…?”

He dropped his hand from the knob and walked into the penthouse, turning his back to me as he moved farther into the living room.

I shut the door behind me then walked to him. “Derek—”

“I said I would see you on Monday.” He turned back around and stared me down. “I need space right now. I thought I made that pretty obvious.”

“Obvious would be telling me you need space because something happened. You didn’t say that, Derek. And I didn’t come here to interrogate you. I came because I’m worried. That’s all.”

His eyes didn’t soften like they should.

“Talk to me.”

“I don’t want to talk, Emerson. I want to be alone—”

“Don’t call me that.” My body immediately lit on fire, angry fire. “You call me baby. Only baby. No first-name bullshit.”

He stilled like he didn’t expect the outburst.

“I don’t like it when you treat me differently because you’re upset.”

“I wouldn’t have treated you differently if you’d given me the space I clearly need.” He didn’t raise his voice like I did, but somehow, he was louder than I was. “I fucking love you with all my heart, but I just need some time to myself. Is that really that egregious?”

“No. I just wish…you would confide in me.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said quickly.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t,” he snapped. “I don’t have to share every little thing with you—”

“But I would hope that you’d want to. Derek, I know everything about you. Why is this off the table?” He told me about the Odyssey, about his mom, but he wouldn’t tell me this, and I didn’t understand why.

He looked away and turned silent.

“I’m not challenging you. I’m just asking.”

He sighed quietly, closed his eyes, and after he considered it his answer, he opened them again. “It’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to me, and every time I talk about it, it …makes me feel just as bad as I felt when it actually happened. It’s hard to understand, but my memory works differently than other people’s. Normal people can only memorize up to seven numbers and not exceed that. I can memorize a hundred. When things happen to me, they’re always fresh in my mind, so it’s harder for me to get past things. Normal people forget within a reasonable amount of time, the details become hazy, and that’s a good thing because it allows them