“Urgh, I absolutely hate thunder and lightning. Emilia is working tonight as well.” I crouch down to her clothes, folding them and adding them to mine. She sits up, resting on her elbows to watch me. “Why do you always fold everything? I feel like you’re constantly tidying up.”
This is the part where I ask her a question about herself. Where I deflect, where I’d keep her talking about herself until she was distracted enough to remember she asked me something in the first place. But the anxiety from trying to control a conversation in that way is exhausting and I’m tired of forcing my guard to stay up with her.
I sit cross-legged next to her and take a deep breath. “Sometimes my dad would come home in really bad moods and he’d pick at every single thing—the house was messy, dinner wasn’t ready, my brother and I hadn’t done our homework yet—and I fucking hated waiting for him to come home, never knowing what mood he was in.”
She sits up and moves in front of me, crossing her legs too so her knees are resting against my shins. It’s such a simple thing to do and when her hands rest against my calves, I want to keep going.
“I tried to do everything before he had a chance to complain about it. Keeping everything tidy just became a habit after that. I like being helpful and keeping things tidy is an easy way to help people.”
“I’m sorry for being so untidy.” She offers a coy smile. “I have a habit of leaving a path of destruction in my wake, both literally and metaphorically.”
“Like a wildfire.”
She nods, bringing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. “I don’t mean to be.”
My fingers trail patterns on either side of her ankles, while she rests her chin on her knees. “This is the bit where you tell me something about you so I don’t feel awkward for being the only one sharing.” I’m only half joking, but she smiles. “That’s how this works, right? A secret for a secret.”
“I love that you think I’m sharing to make things even and not because I’m totally incapable of keeping my thoughts in my head when I’m around you. What do you want to know? I’m an open book, Callaghan.”
“You keep mentioning little things about wanting to change. What’s the deal with that? I think your perfect, so I don’t get why you’d want to.”
Lifting her head, she stares at me for what feels like forever. Pools of the most beautiful emerald green looking right at me, but for once, she’s totally quiet.
“I’ve told myself for years how self-aware I am and how I’m my own person, but I’m not,” she says eventually. “It’s really hard admitting you’re the person standing in the way of your own happiness, but I realized I was the problem a while ago. I just didn’t know where to start. You ever feel like you’ve made something your entire personality? So much so you don’t know how to disconnect yourself from it?”
“What do you mean?”
She rests her head back on her knees, slowly shrinking herself before me. “I know I’m messed up, right? And it’s like, if I’m the first person to say it then people can’t use it to hurt me. If I’m the first to say how much emotional baggage I have, then people can’t use it to push me away, because I’m the one who knew it was there. Does that make sense?”
“Yeah.”
“And I know I struggle with rejection, so I don’t give people the chance to reject me. I search for physical connections with people, to feel validated, because I need someone else to prove to me that I’m wanted. So I call myself self-aware because I know those things about myself, but in reality, I don’t know anything about myself. I say I’m my own person but every choice I make is because of something someone else did. That isn’t being my own person.”
“You are wanted, Aurora. You’re incredible and you can be your own person.”
“There’s something about Honey Acres that makes me feel good,” she says quietly. “It feels so fragile right now, but I’m starting to remember what I like about myself. I want to make choices that make me happy. And I’m scared when I go back to Maple Hills, I won’t want to try so hard anymore. That I’ll be surrounded by so much external noise that I’ll forget this feeling.”
“I won’t let you forget, don’t worry.” My words hang in the air between us like question marks, because neither of us have mentioned that when the summer is over, we’ll be heading back to the same place. I did two years before meeting her, it’s not unreasonable to think I could do another two without seeing her since the college is so big.
Aurora rolls onto her stomach, arms tucked under her head, her hip pressed up against me. Her touch makes me feel settled, a feeling I can’t say I’m used to. It’s familiar and safe, like there’s an unspoken agreement between us as her skin presses into mine. We ease into a natural silence, something becoming common between the two of us, where I don’t question it and she doesn’t fill it and, for the second time, I drift off to sleep beside her.
The trees have created shade over me when I wake up some time later alone.
Alone.
My heart sinks, skin prickling uncomfortably as I stare at the empty spot beside me. I want to be surprised, but deep down I’ve been preparing for this moment for weeks. The moment where I go too far, share too much and it’s too much to handle. I can’t be mad at her for running, when I knew this would happen if I opened up to someone.
Pushing myself up from the blanket, the second my head rises I spot her, floating on her back in the water and my heart doesn’t know what to do. I think I’ve given it whiplash from how fucking quickly I’m flitting from despair to happiness.
I’m such a dick.
I’m six feet away when the water ripples let her know I’m there and she stops floating. “Hey, sleepy head,” she says softly. Her eyebrows pinch together as she takes me in. Gently gripping her waist, I pull her closer, feeling better when she instantly wraps her arms and legs around me the way I want her to. “You look sad. What’s wrong?”
I bury my face into her neck, letting my arms wrap around her, breathing in the smell of peach and sunblock. “I thought you’d left.”
She tightens her hold. “I’m sorry, I needed to cool down. Are you okay?”
I nod, loosening my grip on her so she can lean back to look at my face. Her hand brushes my hair from my face and my eyes flick to her lips. “You don’t need to apologize. I thought I’d finally scared you away. I overreacted; I’m fine.”
“I might not have the exact same circumstances, but I can relate to your feelings, Russ,” she says carefully, running her fingers across my temple and down to my jaw. “I know how it feels expecting more from someone who lets you down. You’re not going to scare me with your feelings or your experiences, I promise. I know it’s not going to undo the other stuff, but I’m choosing to be here and nothing you say to me is going to make me change my mind.”
I swallow as her fingers skim down my neck and along my collarbone. “Thank you.”
The moment of panic and relief has passed, but I still don’t want to let her go. We work like this, just the two of us away from everyone else. Where she wants to be wanted and I want to be put first. Where we both ignore the reality that her closeness to me is through forced proximity and under normal circumstances this wouldn’t be happening.
Her stomach brushes mine as she sighs deeply, her teeth sinking into her lip while she works out what to say. “Being vulnerable is scary. Sharing the things you think no one else will understand is scary. But if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s ignoring all the normal signals to stop talking. I can teach you, but I’ve got to be honest, it’s a lot easier drunk.”