And that, that’s a hard one. I rest my forehead in my hands, my knees—one still bouncing—propping up my elbows as I try to remember how to breathe. Her fingers graze my back, and I resist the urge to melt into them, scrunching my eyes tighter and shaking my head. I stand up and pace. This was a bad idea. I should go.

shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit

“Did you know that dragonflies can zoom along at thirty-five miles per hour?”

“Peak, don’t,” I say, my voice shaking. I came here to make it better, but every time she tries to comfort me, I just feel a thousand times worse. “Why are you so nice?” I mean it in a bad way, but it comes out embarrassingly plaintive.

“I’m not that nice,” she says.

I look at her and raise my eyebrows.

“I was planning to ghost you after the con.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t. I blame your dimple.” She tosses me a peanut butter cup, which I miss and have to scoop off the carpet. There are still vacuum lines in some places, and it seems wrong to be tossing candy on it.

I take a step closer as she pops open the Sprite and sets it on the table beside her without even taking a sip. She reaches out her hand and pulls me down on the bed, so close our knees are touching, harsh denim against soft pajamas.

idontdeservethis

“Get out of your head, Ridley.”

“How?”

“You can start by telling me everything I should know about you.”

I huff out a laugh, dropping my head back and staring at the ceiling. “If I do that, then you’ll definitely hate me.”

“I might,” she says. “But there’s only one way to know. And I think I deserve to have all the information before I make up my mind.”

My first instinct is to run, because nothing good will come of this. I’ve never shown anyone the truth of who I am, of what I am, of how much of a goddamn mess I am even on the best of days. But then I remember what Gray said, that it’s not just my heart on the line. That I dragged her into this, and I owe her, so I take a deep breath and I start talking. I tell her about what happened at the end of the con, when she was already on her way home, and I hint about my relationship with my parents. And it’s hard. When we were texting, I felt like I could tell her anything, but now I’m suffocating under the weight of her stare.

icantdothisicant

But she asked for everything. And this is a big part of everything, the biggest, maybe. I run my hands through my hair and try to choose my words carefully, which doesn’t exactly work. But it’s now or never.