Kara frowns at me and laces her fingers together on the desk. “I’m sorry. You lost me.”
“Don’t you get it?” I spring up from the chair and pace. “It’s hopeless and I know it and I have no urge to date him. No urge, whatsoever. I don’t expect him to tell me he loves me because I don’t want him to and I know he won’t.”
“Because he’s unavailable,” Kara jumps in.
“Uh-huh. That’s right.” Laughing, I sit back down.
“That’s…interesting. Kind of backward, but interesting. But what if it changes? What if you begin to want those things?”
“I won’t, because he’s like cancer.” Kara raises her eyebrows at my analogy. “I know the endgame with him. I know the cancer is going to kill me, so I’m not begging for my life anymore. I just…” Sighing, I try to put my feelings into words. “He distracts me, you know…from Caleb. He makes me feel normal. If I can fantasize about someone else then that means Caleb’s hold on me is weakening, going away.” I swallow as sadness and fear and tiny excitement overwhelm me. “And I want that. I want a life of my own where I don’t think about him all the time.”
Our session goes fast after that. Kara is happy I’m moving on, but I can see the guardedness in her eyes. She doesn’t need to worry though. My crush is harmless, just a distraction, and I need that right now.
After finishing, I go to Crème and Beans to get my coffee fix and run into Emma. She’s at the counter, paying for a large mug of coffee, and I come up behind her.
“Hey.” She waves at me awkwardly, and I do the same. She is still wary of me and I can’t take it, especially when there’s nothing to be wary of.
“So Emma, uh…” She gives me her full attention and I stumble over my words a little. “I don’t…know how to say this but, uh, I’m just gonna say it. I kind of know that you don’t like me for some reason and I also know that you like Dylan.” She freezes, her eyes wide, blush burning her cheeks. “I-It’s okay. I’m not…I’m not judging or anything. I just wanna say that you have nothing to fear from me. I shouldn’t even be on your radar.”
I whoosh out a breath when I’m done. She is in shock, opening and closing her mouth at my frankness. After a few seconds, she manages to gather herself. “I…don’t know what to say. I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
Denial. I’ve done the same thing before.
“It’s fine. You don’t have to say anything. Just know that I’m harmless.”
At that, she scoffs. “Right.”
“I am.”
“You’re the violet-eyed goddess.”
“Huh?”
She smiles sadly. “That’s Dylan’s nickname for you. He’s crazy about you. Last semester when you guys had that class together? He wouldn’t shut up about how much he liked you.”
“What?” I bark out a disbelieving laugh.
“It’s fine. His feelings are not your fault. I’m being stupid.”
“But he doesn’t have feelings for me.” Emma doesn’t look like she believes me, and I continue, “Do you want me to prove it?”
“Prove what?”
“That he doesn’t like me that way. He can’t. He doesn’t even know me—not like he does you. Trust me when I say this: Dylan likes you.”
Dylan might think I’m attractive, what with violet eyes and black hair, but liking is taking it too far. Back in New York, I always knew guys liked my face—I take after my mom, after all, the beauty queen of the Upper East Side—but they never liked me. All they saw was my beautiful face, never me. I was invisible to them.
Caleb was the only one who knew the real me, but that wasn’t enough.
Hope flares in Emma’s brown eyes and my heart hurts for her. She is me, so very much like me in her unrequitedness.
“I don’t think so.” She shakes her head and sips her coffee.
“Will you at least give me a chance to prove it to you?”
“Okay. Yeah.”
“All right then.”
We throw small smiles at each other and I think this could be the beginning of something. There is a delicate truce between us. I get my coffee while Emma waits for me and then we head out together. She tells me she went to see an apartment a few streets over because she’s planning to move out of the dorms.
“It was the worst. I don’t think I’ve seen such a small room in my entire life, and I’ve been to the city, numerous times.” She shudders.
“Why don’t you live with me?” It’s a spur of the moment decision and I don’t even know I’ve made it until after the words come out of my mouth.
“What?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “I think it’s a great idea. I live just up the street, and I’ve got a spare room you can use.”
“I don’t… Are you sure?”
“Yes. Do you wanna come see it?”
“Right now?” She stops walking. “Yeah. I’d love to.”
“Great.” I grin.
Five minutes later, I let her in my tower. The ground floor smells like paint and new floors. Emma raises her eyebrow at the construction equipment but remains silent. We take the elevator up and she walks into the apartment after me.
Now that she is here, I see the space through her eyes and am embarrassed. The open floor plan has a living room and kitchen separated by a large island, which is hidden under the empty pizza boxes and Chinese takeout containers. A blanket is sprawled on the beige couch with a bag of chips and a package of Twizzlers on it. My laptop sits on the coffee table, lid half open, beside a stack of notebooks.
The only good thing about this large space is the sliding doors that lead to the balcony beyond the kitchen.
I smile at her in embarrassment and walk her to the spare bedroom on the left, adjacent to mine. This room is empty and, quite frankly, the cleanest one in the apartment since there’s no stuff in here.
“This would be your room,” I tell her, almost cringing at what she must be thinking about my living conditions. It feels oddly intrusive and vulnerable to show someone where you live. I’m beginning to regret this idea.
Emma walks in and circles around the room, passing by the closet, the en suite, and at last, standing at the window overlooking Albert Street and the university park. I’m at the edge of the room, feeling anxious. I tell myself it’s no big deal if she hates it, but really, when is rejection not a big deal?
“I love it.” She faces me and grins.
“You do?”
“Yeah. It’s super big. I love the building. The location is great.” She frowns. “Though how much is the rent for this place? I don’t think I can afford it.”
I enter the room and wave my hand at her. “Oh, don’t worry about that. My stepdad owns the building.”
“Whoa, really?”
“Yeah. It’s still not ready to rent out, but they made an exception for me. I call it my tower.”
“So that’s why it looks like a construction zone.” She nods her head as if coming to a conclusion. “You’re rich, aren’t you?”