Page 24 of Touch Me

“Hmm?”

“Now would be the time to elaborate a little and not just answer the direct questions.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” I straighten in my chair and try to shake off the tampon tornado currently whirling around my brain. “Okay. So, I went to law school like Jack did, to please my father. I did well. But I was bored, so I minored in finance and accounting. I was always—”

She grabs hold of the arms of her chair and pulls herself forward. “Excuse me, what? Law school was boring, so you got two more degrees while you were there?”

“Umm.” I scoot my chair back a little, suddenly uncomfortable with her closeness. “Well, it was really only one extra bachelor’s degree. Accounting and Finance have a lot of the same classes.” I rub my sweaty palms up and down my thighs, and even my own touch makes my skin crawl. “It wasn’t too bad. I like numbers.” My knees bounce, and my eyes dart from the skyline, to the ground, to the seagulls flying over the water, and back to the ground again. “They make sense to me.”

“So, what do you actually do for work?”

“Well, when I turned twenty-one, I took my trust fund and invested it. Turns out, I was pretty good at it. So, I started doing it for my roommate. Word got around that I was making money off the stock market, and before I knew it, I had a lot of customers. I still have a lot of the same ones, manage their stock portfolios online, so I never have to leave or see people.”

She brings her hand to her mouth and nibbles the tip of her thumb. “And that’s important to you?”

I lift a shoulder and squint, even the sunshine is too much stimulation. “It used to be.”

She straightens her laptop and rearranges her pens, giving me comfort that she fidgets when she’s nervous too. “Not anymore?”

“Maybe not,” I whisper.

She leans in, further crowding my safety bubble. “When did that change?”

“Yesterday.” That one word holds so much weight—I didn’t mean to say it out loud, and now I can’t take it back.

I stand in a rush and grab my plate. The chair scrapes across the concrete and grates on my fraying nerves.

“What? Jace? You can’t drop that on me and walk away,” she says, jumping to follow me. “What changed yesterday?”

I make it to the door, but she’s right behind me. “You know what changed yesterday.”

Just. Stop. Talking.

I beeline for the kitchen and set my plate in the sink. When I turn around, she’s blocking my path. In my bubble. Again. My eyes flutter a mile a minute, scanning through the flashes in my head. I need some space,I need to breathe.

“Why would my being here change something as important as that? C’mon, Jace. This whole place is set up so you never have to leave.” She gestures with her arms spread wide. “It looks like that was your plan, right? How could that change so quickly?”

I can’t just tell her.

Tell her I want to be normal. She doesn’t know I’mnotnormal.

On second thought, after the last twenty-four hours, she might have some idea. But I can’t tell her I want to be able to leave my house without nearly losing my shit. What kind of pussy says that out loud? Even something as simple as ordering food at a restaurant can be daunting.

I want to be able to go to the beach and sit next to a family on the sand. I want to be able to go to a bar and order a beer. Go on a date. Walk down the street holding her hand. And I definitely can’t say it’sherI always picture in that scenario. I’d be worried abouthersanity if she didn’t run screaming.

How did I not realize how secluded I was? How did I ever think I wanted to be alone and never leave this place for the rest of my life? Surfing and photography are the only things that get me out of the house, and sometimes, even then, I only last an hour.

I was so comfortable in my seclusion. Then she shows up and, in one day, she makes me realize what I’m missing. I want to be normal for her. But I can’t tell her that.

“Nevermind.” I move around her. “Forget I said anything.”

“Forget you said anything? How am I supposed to do that? Jace, look—”

I need air.

“I have to get some work done. I’ll see you later.” And just like that, I dismiss her.

Her scoff says she’s beyond pissed with my abrupt end to the conversation, but she doesn’t push it.

---