Page 55 of Come As You Are

The door cracks open, and Salem steps inside. After the reception to his performance, I half expect him to have his clothing clawed to shreds and his face covered in lipstick prints, but it’s just my dormmate and study buddy, my pact partner, a hesitant look on his face I can barely make out in the moonlight streaming through my window. “You almost had me.”

“Shouldn’t you be off somewhere, rolling around in your fandom?”

“Am I— Is this not my fan club meeting?” He scratches his head. “Dammit, I always get lost on the way to my shrine.”

“So I was right about you being an emo-boy cliché.”

“I guess you were.” He steps closer, takes a tentative seat on the edge of my bed. “Are you okay?”

“Of course I’m okay,” I lie. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He sighs. “Can we skip that part where you keep lying and I keep asking and just get to it?”

I don’t know what’s worse—that Salem noticed I’m not okay or thatSalemnoticed I’m not okay. We were supposed to be on equal footing, each of us wanting a life we couldn’t quite achieve on our own. But now he’s so far overshot while I’ve failed at attempt after attempt to grow at all, and it hurts just to be in the same room.

Even more painful? How badly I just want ahug.I need someone to hold me and tell me things are gonna be okay like I need air. We may not be in the best place right now, but I would giveanythingfor my mom to sit where Salem is sitting and give me one of the lazy back scratches she used to when I wormed into her bed for safety during thunderstorms. And looking at Salem, at the concern on his face, I know that if I asked him, he would give me at least a brief squeeze. And it would feel amazing.

But I am not about to ask that of another girl’s boyfriend, after everything. And I need him to leave so I can stop thinking about doing it anyway.

“I’m fine, Salem. You should go to bed.”

“You’re fine? That’s why you bolted out of the talent show?” He sighs. “Look, I get that you don’t want to talk to me, but you should talk tosomeone.Sometimes, like right now, you just get this vibe about you, like…”

“Like?”

His eyes glitter in the darkness of my room. “Like you should talk to someone.”

I don’t know if he means a friend or a therapist, but I don’t have either one—at least not a friend I can tell about everything—so I stay silent, staring up at my dark ceiling and wishing I at least had those glow-in-the-dark stars or something. Way too much of my life right now is staring out into nothingness.

Where do I even go from here?

“It’s just… you remind me of her when you drift off like this. Of Sabrina. After she and Molly broke up and she couldn’t get out of bed. Couldn’t eat. Couldn’t anything. It was so bad,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, and I’m not even sure he’s still talking to me. “I wouldn’t have done what I did if I didn’t think I absolutely had to, if I didn’t think she literally needed to move somewhere else to survive.”

“And now you want to be the hero again?” It comes out meaner than I intend, but I’m not sure I even care. It’s physically painful, having him so close and having to keep him so far away. Having to keep my secret, to keep my distance, to keep from telling him how badly I just need a fuckinghug.

To keep from telling him how much his stupid fucking song broke my heart all over again for reasons I can’t even begin to understand.

“I know you don’t think it’s about that,” he says flatly. “We both know I’m not a hero. Hell, you had to teach me how to be a decent guy.”

“No, I didn’t.” As I say it, I realize how true it is. “You were always a decent guy. You were always the guy who riskedhis own reputation and future for his sister, and who helped me when I asked for it, and who brought me tampons under cover of darkness. And now you’re the guy checking on me in the middle of the night. It was stupid to think you were anything else just because you dressed like you rolled out of a dumpster and smelled like a bong.”

“I’m flattered, I think?”

“I’m not flattering you. I’m telling you that you don’t need me and you never did. And I don’t need you either. So can you please. Just. Go?”

There’s an endless silence where he doesn’t respond but he doesn’t get up, either, and I pretend my eyes are closed but I’m actually looking at where his hand rests on his thigh and willing it to stroke my hair. It’s the stupidest thing, but my entire heart feels like it’s seizing in the hopes of receiving exactly that one small touch.Ignore what I’m saying,I want to scream, but I don’t, of course I don’t, and I don’t take his hand and I don’t move closer and I don’t take a breath.

And then he says, “You know where to find me,” and leaves me alone to cry in the dark.

Chapter Fourteen

AT SOME POINT, I MANAGEto cry myself to sleep, which I only know because the ringing of my phone invades my dreams until my searching hand finally locates it and shoves it to my ear. “Hello?” I ask without even bothering to check who’s calling, because that would involve opening my eyes, and that is simply not a thing I can do yet.

“Are you still sleeping?” My mother. “Aren’t you late for breakfast?”

“Breakfast is optional,” I murmur, which turns into a huge yawn, which I know my mother will not appreciate. I check the time. “My alarm will go off in three minutes.”

“Well, sorry to wake you,” she lies, “but I wanted to make sure to tell you before I headed out to work.” She takes a breath, and somehow, I know what she’s going to say before she even says it. “Unfortunately—”

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