Page 76 of Everything's Coming Up Rosie

I still think about that.

I’ve pushed aside a lot of emotions over the years. Anything uncomfortable or sad or scary. Any movies that don’t have a happy ending. Anything that even remotely resembles love or the possibility of love. Anything that might lead to me feeling out of control or like I need another person.

And although I know that professor had a lot to do with exposing this to me, I don’t know how to break out of it.

“I’m afraid of small spaces,” Booker says now, drawing me back to the present.

I watch him for a long moment. I’ve made no promise of reciprocation, but he’s still answered my question.

“Really?” I ask. Despite his claim, he seems like the kind of person who wouldn’t be afraid of anything.

“Yeah. Super claustrophobic. Tunnels, heights—”

“Laundry rooms?” I cross the room to the coffeepot and pull out a mug.

“There’s a window in there, plus the door was open, so that one’s okay.”

“Do you want some?”

He holds up a hand. “I’m good, thanks.”

I add cream and a little bit of sugar, then turn and find him watching me.

“And you’re obviously afraid of small, cute animals,” he says.

“That creature probably wanted to eat my bones.”

He laughs. “You’re ridiculous.”

I nod. “Yeah. I know.” I hesitate, then admit, “And... also I’m not crazy about flying over water.”

“So no trips to England? Don’t they have something like Broadway over there?”

“The West End. I mean, that would be amazing,” I say. “But they’d have to drug me to get me there.” And then I squint over at him.

He watches me, almost like he’s trying to solve a mystery too. “Anything else you’re afraid of?”

Oh yeah. Lots.

Failing.

Everyone finding out I’m a fraud.

Letting everyone down.

Having to move back home.

Not making it.

I shake away the barrage of unwanted thoughts. “I didn’t agree to this whole ‘being honest with back-and-forth questions’ idea. Plan. Thing.” I take a sip of my coffee, mostly to avoid looking at him.

“Yeah, I know,” he responds. “It’s fine.”

I look off to the side. “But...”

His head tilts slightly, a clear question waiting there for me. “But...?”

I say in a singsong, “I’ve been thinking about it.”

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