Page 30 of Touch Me

The urge to fidget and move overwhelms me, and I stand to gather supplies, unable to sit quietly. How much do I need? How long am I going to keep this up?

Shaking my head at the hoard of food gathered, I sit to eat. As soon as I take a bite, I instantly feel better and guilty at once. I’ve been such a pussy. Not just for holing up in my room but for everything. Running away, avoiding her, not telling her the truth. Not being able to deal with my own shit.

I’m conflicted between her thinking I’m a pussy for staying in my room and knowing the truth and judging me for it. I don’t know which is worse. Her knowing I’ve never touched a woman—well, except that one time I don’t talk about—or her thinking I can’t be a man and come out of hiding.

The worst part is, she doesn’t even know why I’m avoiding her. She doesn't know why I ran. She doesn’t know I can’t handle being touched. She doesn’t know anything because I’m too fucking scared to tell her. She probably believes I don’t want her here.

The fact is, Idowant her here. I just don’t think I can handle it. Having her here is fucking me up. She makes mewantthings. Things I’ve spent my whole life avoiding. Things I’ve resigned myself to living without. Things I told myself I didn’t want or need. But now I’m second-guessing my entire existence.

What the fuck was I going to do? Live here in this apartment, my whole life, alone? It sure sounded like a good idea at the time. Now I don’t know. All I know is having her here has me questioning everything.

Since the first time I met her, she’s had this light about her, drawing me in. She was so full of life, and it shocked me when I found out about her home situation. How did she do it? Walk around with a smile on her face and a shimmer in her eye when her life was shit?

I had everything handed to me on a silver platter, and I couldn’t even function like a normal human. Yet she could bounce down the steps for dinner or run around the pool with Jess like she hadn’t a care in the world. I would watch her from a distance, always out of sight, just to see her face light up when she laughed. Her eyes sparkle when she smiled.

I found myself seeking her out, waiting for her to pass by in the halls, and staying after class for a few minutes because I knew she’d be around the corner three minutes after the bell rang for lunch. I would watch her until she caught sight of me and then divert my eyes to avoid her gaze, like the wimp I am.

She caught the attention of a few guys in school, but once they learned of her home life, the pretentious assholes stopped pursuing her. Which worked out perfectly for me. There’s no way I could’ve handled anyone being with her. Touching her. And no way could I ever tell anyone to back off because I knew I couldn't fill the role myself. So her having what she would probably consider a shitty high school experience, no real boyfriends, no first love, all because of her social status, worked out pretty well for me.

God, I’m such an ass.

Letting all my friends believe she was beneath them because she wasn’t wealthy, so no one would date her? Complete dick move. I hate the fact that I contributed to her thoughts of worthlessness. But I couldn’t expose myself as an admirer and none of those asswipes were worthy of her. She meant too much to me, and I would’ve lost my shit if they talked about her the way they did their other conquests.

So I let them think she was trash when she was so much more than that. She was the embodiment of light and love and everything I wanted. She was everything. Which meant I had to leave her be. She didn’t deserve to be tied down to my worthless ass.

I remember walking out of the house one day to take the garbage out, and she was bent over in front of the bushes after walking a couple of miles from her house to ours. She was thirteen or fourteen years old and all knees and elbows. Her eyes and teeth were too big for her face, but her shimmery green gaze still sucked me in. I came up behind her to see what she was doing without saying a word, but my shadow fell across the bricks in front of her, and she jumped.

She had spotted a kitten in the bushes she was sure was too small to be away from its mother. Her eyes welled up, and her chin trembled when she couldn’t find it again. She was dressed in tattered clothes, and her shoes were at least two sizes too small, but she was worried about this little kitten being left all alone.

I assured her I’d seen its mother wandering around and she would find her baby, even though I’d seen no such thing. After dinner, I went back outside to search for the kitten and found her cowering under the deck out back. I spent the next two months feeding and tending to a baby kitten in the shed behind the poolhouse. I bottle-fed the thing that—as Cassie insisted—was too young to be without her mother, then litter-trained her and socialized her before finding her a home.

I never told Cassie because I didn’t want her to worry, and I certainly didn’t want her hanging around while I tended to the cat. I liked to watch her from a distance. And in doing so, I learned everything I needed to know. She loved, and she loved hard.

It was easy to see from early on I could never reciprocate that. I saw how Cassie looked at me sometimes when I allowed myself a smidge of eye contact. My issues would never allow for a normal relationship, and I never wanted to hurt her that way. So, like an asshole, I did it from the sidelines, never correcting anyone when they talked badly about her.

I let them think she was scum. I let the girls spread rumors about her. All so no one would touch her. I single-handedly molded her adolescence and self-esteem to suit my own jealous needs. Even now, I’m using her.

Yes, I’m letting her stay here, which isn’t even close to making up what I owe her, and I’m still using her. The experiment was an utter failure, though, which is no less than I deserve.

I finish eating and rinse the plate, careful to do so quietly, then grab the hoard of snacks from the island and head for my room. As soon as I take the step up into the living room, I see her form sunken into the couch. I don’t know how I missed her on the way in, but from where she’s sitting, she’s been watching me the whole time.

Oh, the irony.

“Hey,” she says with a hesitant smile.

“Oh, hey.” I stop mid-step and stammer over my words. “I, uh, didn’t see you there.”

“I figured you would get hungry eventually.” She shrugs. “The Thai food you had delivered yesterday was delicious, by the way.”

“You ate my food?” My hand instantly goes to my hip, and I have the urge to stomp my foot.What am I, four?“Those assholes said they wouldn’t deliver to my room.”

“Well, they delivered it to the doorman, and he called up. Lee saysHi, by the way. Said his boss wouldn’t let him deliver to your room for safety reasons, but he wanted to make sure you got your food.” She nods, avoiding my eyes, and picks absently at the blanket thrown over her legs. “You must be a good tipper if the delivery guy was worried about you. I tipped him well and told him I would make sure you got it.”

“But you didn’t.”

Her eyes dart up to mine for a split second before falling back to her lap. “No, I didn’t. I thought about it. Even went to your door to knock. But it smelled so good.” She grins and shrugs apologetically.

I chuckle. Not the exchange I thought we’d be having after the last two days, but I’m grateful for the slice of humor she’s offering.

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