Page 139 of Until the Ribbon Breaks

“Mom, relax.”

“Do not tell me to relax when you’re hanging out with that boy and coming home with tattoos.”

“It’s just one, and why are you calling himthat boy?”

“You know how I feel about him.”

“You don’t even know him.”

Pressing her lips together, she pauses before asking, “Is there something going on between the two of you?”

“Oh my god,” I exhaust, rolling my eyes.

“Answer me.”

“No, Mom. There’s nothing going on. We’re just friends.”

“Why is he your only friend?”

“Why does it matter?” I shoot back. “Why are you so against him?”

“Because he’s a bad influence on you.” I lock my jaw to keep myself from going off on her. She steps closer to me, taking my hand again, and glares at the tattoo when she says, “This isn’t you.”

Yanking it away, I snap back, “No, Mom. This isn’tyou.” My tone is sharp, alarming her. “He’s my best friend. He’s the only one who doesn’t judge me for being who I am.”

“I don’t judge you.”

“Yes, you do! You’re constantly trying to change me and make me into someone I’m not becauseyoudon’t like who I am.”

“That isnottrue.”

“You say you want me to have friends, and then when I make one, he isn’t the right type of friend.”

“You are fixated with him. It isn’t healthy.”

“He makes me happy!” I yell, my anger boiling over. “Isn’t that what you want? For me to be happy?”

“Of course, I do. I just don’t understand why you can’t have a couple of girlfriends too. Why is it only him?”

“Because he understands me when no one else does.”

Her brows sink in hurt, but it’s the truth. “I’m trying,” she says on the verge of tears.

Her pain softens my frustrations, and I lower my voice. “He was there for me this summer when I didn’t have anyone.”

“Harlow ...” Her tears spill over her lashes, but I don’t stick around to watch her cry.

I can’t take on her pain when mine is beyond measure, so I go back to my room.

Shutting down, I take a quick shower, throw on some clothes, and pretend to leave for school, not saying another word to my mom before rushing out of the house.

She’ll never understand me. And even though I claimed that Sebastian does, truth is, he doesn’t. He gets me better than anyone else, but how could he possibly understand me when I don’t even understand myself?

Me: Instead of the beach, can you meet me at my dad’s place?

Sebastian: You want me to head over now?

Me: Yeah.

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