Page 60 of The Masks We Wear

I grant her a smirk, and a small chuckle. “I don’t know about all that, Mom.”

“Hush child. You’re perfect.” She reaches out a frail hand and I take it, grimacing when the cold extremity nearly shocks me. Her soft eyes scan my face and I feel bare beneath her stare. She’s always been good with reading me like a book, telling me things I didn’t know I needed until she said them. “You’re still sad about something.”

I try to smile but realize I can’t, and instead just nod.

She strokes the side of my hand with her soft thumb. “If you continue to focus on this hurt, you will continue to suffer, son. Try to remember, not all storms come to disrupt your life. Some come to tear everything down, so you can build something new.”

This time I do smile and release her hand so I can round the bar to embrace her. Imagining life without her feels impossible yet inevitable. Creeping closer to reality and pulling me further in the dark.

I struggle to breathe over the pain, restricting my throat and ignore the prickling at the back of my eyes.

Hold fast, hold steady.

After a few minutes, I grab her breakfast and help her back to the room. I set her up for the day and kiss each temple.

“I’ll be back soon. Please get some rest.”

She smiles and turns to her soap opera, stirring the oatmeal I know she won’t finish. “Be sweet, my precious son, and have a good day.”

I clear my throat, and softly close the door, locking her inside.

Just three more weeks.I can make it.

THE DAY LASTSat least ten hours, and by the time I collapse in the chair of our experiment room, I’m two seconds away from falling asleep. Lucky, or unlucky, depending on how I look at it, Lily appears on time.

A long black dress clings to her curves, showcasing every dip and arc of her body. I try my best to ignore the surge of blood to my dick and remind myself what a fucking bitch she is. How everyone in the damn school has a real fucked image of said dick, and she’s the reason I haven’t gotten any. And while the meaningless sex isn’t a huge deal, the distraction that comes with it, is.

I flip on the light and set the timer, focusing on the time as the numbers tick by. Today’s color is a soft shade of pink. It fills the room with a strange soft aura, and my pulse increases at the thought of the many ways today could go. The color is known to stimulate creativity and calmness, but once adjusted, can invoke feelings of agitation and passion.

The timer buzzes, and I start. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she mirrors, and it becomes clear neither of us want to be here.

All the better for me, I’ll make this quick.

“How was your day?”

She yawns, covering her mouth before examining her cuticles. “Long. How was your day?”

“Busy.” Which is a lie. It was fucking overwhelming. Even though all the teachers and counselors were kind about my situation, getting set up to take on the load, nearly caved my brain in. “How are you feeling?”

Her eyes flicker to my lips unexpectedly, and I shift in my chair. “Better. How are you feeling?”

Better?The phrase is loaded and I can’t lie and say I’m not curious. While I want to cuss her out for the posters from before break, and ask her what her fucking problem is, there’s something different about her too. She seems lighter maybe. Even her shoulders rest a little higher. Maybe she’s happy she fucked up all my dates?

No, there’s something else playing behind the shimmer in her eyes.

She clears her throat, and I realize I’ve just been staring. “Anxious. If you could do anything right now, what would you do?”

“Leave. If you could do anything right now, what would you do?”

I sigh, sitting back and think of the millions of things I plan to do instead of working on this damn project. “Rest.”

She scoffs, crossing her arms and purses her lips.

Yes, the busy queen bee of Emerald Falls has so much to do, so many people to command, she probably thinks rest is for the weary.

“What do you plan to do in the future?” I have no fucking clue why I ask her that.

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