Page 63 of The Masks We Break

Without thinking, my body leads me right to where I want to be. Where Ineedto be. The place where I’ve always felt a type of calm like no other.

When I make it to the top floor of the library, I grab a fantasy book about a girl in Houston who lost her mother. But like I’ve wished my entire life, she gets swept off to a magical land to have a life-changing adventure.

I turn the pages, one by one, drowning in the words until the bookshelves fade away, replaced by tall mountains, and the mythical flying creatures.

* * *

My phone vibratesin my bag as I walk out of the library nearly six hours after meeting with Dr. Humphrey. My little trip of escapism has given me enough time to calm my mind for now, but really I can’t take anything extra today.

I squeeze my eyes closed as I dig around, sending a silent prayer that it isn’t my father calling. But when I take a peek, a bit of relief flushes through the tension. It’s Amora.

It’s like the girl has a radar of when something is happening with me. She’s the pick-me-up I never saw coming.

“Hey. I’m so glad you called.”

Amora sobs, her breathing erratic in the speaker.

My stomach tenses. “Amora-a?”

She sniffs, and after a few seconds she whispers, “Can you come home please?”

“Of course. I’m on my way.” I hang up and hurry to the car.

Anxiety webs through my thoughts, sending beads of sweat across my brow as I pull up to our apartment. With everything from earlier having drained my emotional bank to an all-time low, I’m not sure what else I can handle. But for her, I’ll dang sure put on a brave face and try.

I mean, how bad could it be?

I’ve never seen Amora do anything but smile, and grimace. Her entire personality is built around her air of confidence, and her ability to slay any given problem. She doesn’t panic, or doubt herself. Ever. But when I open our front door, I can one-hundred-percent say, I was not ready.

The five-foot-seven amazonian is curled in a tight ball on the couch. Her favorite rainbow fuzzy socks stick out from beneath my blanket. Her head lifts, and a rock drops into my gut.

Her face is pale but blotches of red stain her cheeks and line her eyes. “I… he... I really liked him.”

Panic grips my throat, having been jaded, images of something worse than what Ricky did to me, stealing my words. I round the couch, carefully sitting next to her. My brows furrow while I let my eyes scan over her face for any indication she was physically hurt.

Clearing my throat, I try again. “Did he?”

Her blue eyes flit down, but she shakes her head, a little more of her normal self ringing through. “I’d cut off his dick if he did.”

My lips pinch together in a dull, bittersweet smile. Amora is strong, so I wouldn’t put it past her to be arrested for that type of allegation.

I find her knee through the blanket and squeeze. If it wasn’t that, I have no idea what could tear her up this badly.

As if she can read my mind, she picks her head up and leans into the soft couch. Dry mascara tears leave dark paths down her cheeks, but her expression seems more tired than sad now. She rubs her nose with one of her long piano fingers and sighs. “He used me.”

I mirror her, resting my head on the back of the sofa and bringing my knees to my chest, stealing some of the blanket to cover us both. She’s mentioned being used before by boys in high school. They knew she had money and it was the one of the sole reasons she never let herself get attached. But that’s the thing about feelings, even when we try to repel them, they always find a way to sneak in. “Do you want to talk about it? Or want me to make some popcorn and we can watch some Attack on Titan reruns?”

She sighs. “Both. It’s just... I’ve been used for plenty of things, but I’ve never been a rebound.”

My head tilts, brows pinched together. “A rebound?”

Amora nods, a humorless laugh spilling from her mouth. “Remember that fancy reservation? It was originally made for his ex that he was going toproposeto.”

Ouch.

“I think he was so sweet and charming because he was still in fiancé mode.” Another bitter giggle escapes her. “She’d gotten cold feet and broken his heart, but I guess they warmed up because she came back,in the middle of us fucking.Girl, he basically drop-kicked me outta there. And the messed up part is Iknowthis is going to fuck with my head for a while. I mean, I’m a bad bitch, but we have feelings too, ya know?”

There’s no bitter laugh this time, and instead, her eyes flutter closed. I want to say something—to assure her that he was just a douche and she’ll find someone else. But the words stick in my throat. Those types of things never help and if anything, always come off a little insensitive. So instead, like all the times I did it with my old friend Spencer, I decide to sit with her in the dark, until she’s ready to find the light.

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