BLAKE
THE SMELL OF books hit me immediately. Old and new pages mixed with thread and leather bindings. It was eerily still, making me self-conscious to move around. Every effort seemed to echo throughout the familiar library, the first study session Angel and I had shared imprinted on its walls.
I stood amongst the tables, my eyes zeroing in on her intended destination for me. In the far back corner, I could already make out something sitting on top of it, even though it was unoccupied. Approaching, the word ‘RESERVED’ was prominently displayed, a manila envelope that said ‘Blake’ sitting below it, and a forget-me-not taped to the right edge.
My heart flipped in my chest, making a jerk out of me. When I’d left my apartment, I’d felt so sure I could do this, but the ugly monster of doubt was back. I was trying to be strong, to keep my self-worth intact. But after a lifetime of trying to prove my worth to the one person I would have given anything to impress, only to be shot down time after time, it was getting harder and harder to convince myself that it was there.
Angel had made me forget all of the letdowns caused by my father, believed in all that was me, no matter what that meant. She’d looked at me like I could move heaven and earth, rearrange the stars in the sky to build her whatever picture she wanted to see. And for all that I was, I fucking tried.
After clearing the solid lump in my throat, I pulled back the chair and winced at the loud scraping sound that reverberated through the space. I needed to fit that broken person back into his box and try to be open-minded if there was going to be any hope of this working.
Pulling back the metal prongs, the envelope revealed a bunch of papers clipped together, another picture being the very first thing in the binding. I tilted the envelope on its side, allowing the clipped pages to partially slide out, forcing two more puzzle pieces to slip free and bounce off the table. I picked one up, flipping it between my nervous fingers as I stared at the image of Eva and me lazing beneath Bertha. All four chambers of my heart pulled into the center, creating a slicing burn as it sped up. I pushed my fist into it and rolled it over the pain.
She’d fallen asleep that day, finally comfortable enough to be around me with her guard down. We’d only known each other a few weeks, and I couldn’t outwardly call her mine yet, although my heart had given her that stamp already. We had been in class together, and the wonky weather had brought on somewhat of an Indian summer. Knowing the cold weather was coming, all I could think about was enjoying the sunshine with her. So at the dismissal of class, I’d laced my fingers with hers and asked her to play hooky with me the rest of the day.
I would never forget how she’d stared down at our hands intimately intertwined, or the look on her face as she’d dragged her bottom lip between her teeth and bit down on the corner, contemplating my request. It had felt like there were tiny birds trapped in my chest as anticipation ballooned between us. In a bold move, I dragged the tip of my thumb up the center of her palm.
Her eyes flicked up to mine as she released the clasp of her lips to allow a small, sexy-as-sin grin. Then she’d rocked up on her toes with a small bounce in her step. “Okay.” And another piece of her snuck inside my erratic heart, slowing it down as it swelled heavier.
I pounded a few taps on my chest as I stared at her golden locks dispersed between the blades of grass that decorated Bertha’s feet. I was used to seeing worry etched on her face, even when she had thought she was portraying herself to be happy. But as she’d lain there, succumbing to the warmth of the sun and the fresh breeze floating on the wisps of Bertha’s long leaves she looked angelic, childlike. It reminded me that, even though she gave off the appearance of an older sophistication, in reality, she was only just coming out of the age of adolescence.
I had laid beside her as carefully as I could, trying not to disturb her, and tried to angle the camera appropriately before closing my eyes and taking the shot. She’d stirred, but instead of pulling away she’d melted herself into the crook of my arm and neck and stayed that way, wrapping around me for the rest of the afternoon.
I flipped over the photograph.
Blake-
In your hand is a list of words that describe what I’ve been through on my journey to you, to where we are today. I used your study tactic as a guide, though my meanings are the real deal. (I left the dirty talk in the tub.)
I hope this helps you understand me a little better. I know you think you know me more than anyone, and maybe in a way you do, but I’m giving you a front row seat to an inside viewing. So get out of the VIP section. You don’t belong there anymore. I’m pretty sure you never did. Go to the spot in this picture for your next clue.
Yours (I hope),
Angel
I placed the photo aside with the puzzle pieces and picked up the page in front of me. The fact that she was making an effort to allow me into the place where she kept her secrets and insecurities counted for more than she knew.
In my hand were college-ruled pages with words listed in the left margin. There was a fold down the right half of the papers, hiding the meanings. When Angel had been having a hard time remembering her vocabulary words, I had done this for her so she could study easily when I wasn’t there to test her. Though, my meanings had been a bit . . . unorthodox.
My gaze fell to the first word on the page, and it swooped into my chest, taking my breath as my forehead immediately dropped to it.
Innocence.
Silent cries rocked my shoulders, and I allowed it, releasing all that had been pent up for so long. I’d always believed myself to be a strong man, but even I had a breaking point. The heaviness of that one word was enough to take me down.
My mind immediately went to a blonde-haired, green-eyed little Angel as I imagined a wolf circling her, licking his chops. My stomach rolled, and I dry heaved. I had never allowed myself thoughts about the reality of what she’d been through. Sure, I wasn’t stupid, and logically I’d known, but that image . . .
I shuddered. Sucking in a ragged breath, I pressed my thumb and forefinger to my tear ducts, squinting and pulling myself upright, then I opened the flap in the page.
Innocence—(n.)
-the state, quality, or virtue of being innocent, especially, freedom from sin, moral wrong, or guilt through lack of knowledge of evil.
-used euphemistically to refer to a person's virginity.
I moved to the next word.
Manipulation—(v.)
-control or influence (a person or situation) cleverly, unfairly, or unscrupulously.
My heart crumpled.
Abuse—(v.)
-treat (a person or an animal) with cruelty or violence, especially regularly or repeatedly.
(n.)
-the improper use of something.
The list was endless.
Fear
Shame
Isolation
Then I came here and met you.
Freedom (n.)
-the power or right to act, speak, or think as one wants without hindrance or restraint.
-the state of not being imprisoned or enslaved.
Acceptance
Happiness
Love
Nightmare
Weak
Worthless
Rebuild
Strength
Healing
Courage
Forgiveness
Devotion
Unity
Commitment
Worthy
Live
Live (v.)
~ make one’s home in a particular place or with a particular person.
Home . . .
This was killing me.
Each word was listed with its meaning, each another clue of the path her life had taken. To see it written out in black and white was such an eye-opener.
The end of this list remains to be written, but when I look into a future with you, this is what I see. I want you to be my happily ever after. My rainbow and unicorns. My white knight. Be what you want, just be mine so I can live. Because when I’m with you, I don’t have to remind myself to breathe.
I sucked in a hefty breath. She had taken the words out of my mouth.