Page 70 of Afterglow
“What’s all this?”
An insecure knot forms in my stomach. “Do you hate it?”
“Are you kidding?” Fletcher sits up, turning his arm to further inspect it. “It’s incredible.” He brushes away loose ends of my hair from my shoulder, exposing it to push his lips onto my bare skin. “You’reincredible. In more ways than one.”
“Yeah? You think so?”
“If you’re asking, I’ll have to do better to remind you.” Another kiss lands on my jawline, sending a flush over my cheeks. “Smart, sweet, gorgeous, talented. You coulda been an artist.”
I scoff. “Nah. My parents thought it was fine, a nice skill to have, but how do you make a living off of doodles?” The manual gets waved in the air. “And now I’m here.”
Memories of childhood surge. As the youngest, only daughter of immigrants, I might as well be the eldest. My parents doted on Parvez. He was untouchable, devoid of any responsibilities that ultimately fell on me while they were away. Granny could only do so much, they said. But I was a kid. I deserved to be a kid.
“Hey.” Fletcher breaks me from the painful nostalgia, laying a tender stroke to my cheek with the back of his fingers. “Are you nervous for the exam?”
“A little.” My phone’s alarm rings, signaling I need to get ready. I move to free myself from the lure of staying in bed with my perfect boyfriend, but he pulls me into a fiery kiss, cradling my neck and coaxing me into his lap. The release is too soon.
“Whatever happens” —he crosses the tips of our noses— “I’m so fucking proud of you.”
I smile against his mouth, posting my hands on the strong planes of his chest.
“And I’ll be there, to bring you home when you’re done,” Fletcher continues, as if he doesn’t realize he’s my home more than any place else.
Nerves flutter in my gut as I set my well-organized resources in front of me at the testing center. They ease up when I get through the first multiple-choice section faster than in the past. Skipping the ones I don’t know is an effective method, after all. When I return to the questions I couldn’t remember off the top of my head, my confidence soars upon efficiently finding the answer. Right when I sense my mind wandering, the proctor announces I have a ten-minute break.
Thank God.
The cycle continues. Every thirty minutes, I step out and walk around, and each time I feel more and more capable of completing this exam within the time given. By the end, I’ve hit my stride, the routine of short windows of focus and mental rest truly allowing for success. It takes me all day, but it’s worth the hope of accomplishment.
Fletcher keeps his promise, waiting outside the examination building in the evening. I get into the truck and gape in surprise at the tray of cupcakes and strawberry smoothie he excitedly holds up.
“For meeee?” I squeal, impatiently removing the tray’s lid and biting into the chocolatey frosting without removing the wrapper. “How did you know my blood sugar was dangerously low?”
“Gabe sent the cupcakes.” He beams, watching me take a happy gulp from the straw. “But I’ll take credit for the smoothie.”
“Are you gonna ask me how it went?”
He shakes his head. “I didn’t want to be so cliche.”
“Oh, who cares? I think it went great,” I say through a tired sigh. “I think I could actually pass it this time.”
“I think so, too.”
“So, what’d you do while I was out?” I peer over with a grateful grin, then pinch my brows together at his shirt, sure that it wasn’t the one he wore earlier. “Wait, why’re you wearing long sleeves? It’s been so warm out, nearly twenty-eight degrees when we took the lunch break.”
A wave of red blazes across his face, nearly matching the stoplight we wait at. He tugs his sleeve over his wrist, making a plasticky, crinkling sound. “It’s…nothing.”
“What’d you do, Fletcher?” Worry takes over when I palm his arm, and he winces. “Did something happen? Tell me you didn’t hurt yourself at training.”
“I didn’t,” he denies, suspiciously evading a proper answer. “I’m fine.”
“Let me see.” Hot tears well at the thought of him in pain. “Please, Fletcher.”
He closes his eyes with a strong exhale after we park. “I’ll show you. Inside.”
I leap from the cab and meet him on the other side, practically dragging him down the hallway to the apartment with the opposite hand from the one he keeps avoiding.
When the door slams behind us, I drop my bag and resort to pleading. “Show me now.”
