Page 19 of My Debacle with De Lorenzo

I freeze the second I enter because whatever I was expecting to find is not what I find. The door of one stall opens, and when I catch sight of her, my whole body goes cold. Her face is so pale, completely drained of color, and that just makes her swollen red eyes more noticeable. The bell rings, but I barely hear it because I’m still reeling from shock.

She drops her head as soon as she sees me, quickly wiping the moisture off her cheeks. “What are you doing in here?”

Her voice is shaky and tight. She doesn’t sound like herself at all. Her husky tone is gone. No sultry inflections. I always used to think that her eyes gave the impression that she was dead inside, but now she sounds like that too, and I can’t take seeing her like this, hearing her like this. A moment passes before I find my voice.

“Uh...you were...you were late. I just came to check if you were okay.”

“I’m fine. Please leave.” She’s still staring at the ground like she’s uncomfortable to let me see her in this state.

“Is this...” I drop my backpack, then take two steps toward her before I stop. “Is this the real reason you’re in here every morning?”

“No.” She presses her palms down her skirt, showing just how awkward she is with my presence. “I just...I hit my elbow on the door this morning...” Her amber eyes wander around the bathroom, focusing on nothing in particular. Her voice strains with the emotion she’s trying to clamp down. She’s trying so hard to sound lighthearted, but it’s weighed down by the sheer heaviness of whatever it is she’s feeling. “...and it hurts like hell. You know...people call it your funny bone, but it’s really not funny.”

“Yeah.” I cautiously close the gap between us and slowly place my hand on her forearm. At a snail’s pace, I trace my fingertips up to her elbow. “It hurts here?”

Keeping her head down, she just nods.

“Bella, I have a feeling this is not where the pain is.” My thumb rubs slow circles around her elbow. “I know you’re going through some stuff and I’m not going to act like I understand because I don’t. By the upbeat way you bounce out of here every day, I’m guessing it’s not anything you want to share, so I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do.” Both my hands slide up her arms and onto her shoulders. “I’m gonna hug you...for as long as you want...and then I’m gonna go outside. I’ll wait for you to do whatever it is you do in here...and when you’re ready, you can come out, and we’ll pretend this never happened.” Hooking my finger under her chin, I tilt her head upward until she finally looks at me. “You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong. We don’t have to speak about this ever again. We can have a rule that whatever happens in the bathroom, stays in the bathroom...but I’ll only do that if you let me hug you first. Is that okay?”

She thinks it over before she nods again. “Okay.”

My arms slip around her shoulders, and she drops her forehead against my chest. Her breaths get heavier. Her body trembles. She might be crying again, but I can’t be sure. She’s swallowing the sounds, still trying to keep her pain to herself. I don’t know how long I stand there holding her, but she doesn’t hold me back. She just stays there with her face pressed into my T-shirt.

“Today is letter day,” she whispers. “When we were kids, my dad used to make us write our letters to Santa every year on the first of October. We haven’t done it in years, so I don’t know what made me think about it. I didn’t understand then why we did it so early, but now I see that he wanted to give himself time to save up in case we asked for something expensive...because that’s just the type of person he was. He tried his best to give us everything we wanted.” Her voice cracks and a small cry escapes before she immediately smothers it, pressing her hand over her mouth to mute the sound. “I’m sorry. It’s so stupid for me to be making such a big fuss over something so insignificant.”

“It’s not stupid, and it’s definitely not insignificant. And it’s okay to cry. It’s okay to not be okay. We all have triggers. No matter how small they may seem to someone else, they have a big impact.”

She shifts her head back so she can look up at me. “Do you have triggers?”

“So many.” I cup her face and use both thumbs to stroke the tears off her face. “A lot of them are episodes ofLaw and Order, though. The entire series makes me so mad.”

She giggles, and for a split second, her eyes light up. I take a mental picture because this moment right here is when I see the real Isabella. Her makeup and her sarcasm are her two biggest defenses and now she’s been stripped of both of them, yet somehow, she’s more beautiful this way. I like seeing vulnerability in her eyes instead of emptiness. I like seeing the genuineness of her smile instead of the sass she hides behind.

“You’re sweet, you know that? Just such a great guy. And I don’t know why you’re so nice to me. Most guys are only nice to me because they...want something from me, but you?”

“What? You think I’m different?”

She’s a little hesitant when she answers. “Um...yes.”

“Well, you’re wrong. I also want something from you. I want my ten minutes a day, so don’t be late again.”

A small smile plays on her lips. “Okay. You know, the world could use a few more guys like you.” She lifts onto her toes and slides her arms around my neck. “Thank you.” She steps back and takes a deep breath. “Now, get outta here. I need to put my game-face on.”

“Sure.”

I pick up my backpack and leave the bathroom. I do as I promised and wait outside until she’s ready to come out. She’s in there for quite a while and I take out my phone to pass the time.

“Le sigh, De Lorenzo.”

I shut my eyes and just take in the sound I’ve been wanting to hear since I got here. I turn slightly and lean against my locker to look at her. Makeup on point. Hair neatly braided and swept up in a funky updo, so different from the girl I saw five minutes ago.

“Why are you sighing in French, Bella? It must be really bad.”

“It is. You see, while your affection for me has remained static, I fear I may be falling more in love with you.”

“Uh-huh, and why’s that?”

“Well, it all started with a vibrator...”

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