Chapter 12
Olivia drove me home after that.
At the entrance to my building, I noticed dark stains on her white blouse. I couldn’t tell whether it was her blood from the hospital IV or Nate’s from the hit she’d given him.
The night air felt damp and soft, like a tear that hadn’t fallen yet.
Just as she turned to leave, I grabbed her hand.
My voice came out smaller than I meant it to.
“Why do you like me?”
She looked down at our hands.
I forced myself to continue.
“I’m ordinary. Not especially pretty. Not especially talented. I’m gloomy. I’m insecure. I don’t think there’s anything about me worth loving.”
Olivia looked at me for a long moment.
And then I understood.
She had noticed everything long before I ever realized it.
The way I kept my head lowered in crowds. The way I always chose the corner of an elevator. The way I instinctively stayed near walls like I was trying to take up less space in the world.
She had seen my lack of confidence, my fear, the old ache of never having felt fully chosen.
Very softly, I asked, “Do I need to be braver?”
Cold moonlight touched one side of her face. Her brows were dark and defined, but her eyes were bare and gentle in a way that only made her seem more beautiful.
“The first time we had dinner together,” she said, “I noticed that whenever someone’s glass was empty, you quietly pushed the drink closer to them before they even asked.”
I stared at her.
“I love your lowered lashes,” she went on. “I love the way your fingers move when you do small kind things like that.”
She stepped closer.
“I loved the way you sat in the corner at my birthday party, holding your wine, wanting to come talk to me and then chickening out every time.”
My breath caught.
“I overheard you crying once in a stairwell after fighting with Nate. I loved your tear-streaked face. I loved the way you turned away and wiped it off by yourself.”
I couldn’t speak.
She smiled at me, word by word, like she wanted me to hear every single piece of it.
“I love all of you.”
My heart started pounding so hard it almost hurt.
Then she said, “If you want to grow, I’ll be the springboard that helps you jump. If you don’t, I’ll still be the forest that shelters you. Lazy you, hardworking you, angry you, depressed you—I accept all of it.”
No one had ever confessed to me like that.
No one had ever made room for every version of me.
She leaned closer until her lips almost touched my ear.
“Do you want me to walk you upstairs?”
Then, lower, rougher, teasing now:
“Remember? I told you my tongue is very talented.”
I laughed so suddenly I nearly cried.
And somewhere between the laughter and the tears, I knew.
I had already fallen for her.