Page 35 of Chalk Outline

“You didn’t turn it down because you don’t want to have sex with me.”

Any sign of affection is scraped away, turning into a frown. Sometimes, I forget that she can read me like an open book with sharp observations, even when she can’t grasp the parts I don’t communicate. She’s fierce and clever, and everything about her is attractive.

Whenever I stand or sit across from her, she mirrors everything about me; yet her darkness always embraces mine and welcomes me home.

“I’ll tell you what, if you accept the deal, I will have a reason to keep you,” she suggests before downing the third shot. “I’ll give you two months to decide.”

I know she doesn’t mean it in a bad way. She would never do that because it’s out of character, but it still hurts, as if everything I am to her has faded, especially after she called meher friend. She knows she can count on me because I’ll always be there for her, no questions asked, for better or worse. I’m not a ticket to swipe while she loses her virginity. That is not what I am. That is not how I want her to see me. I want her to want me because it’s me. Because there’s no one else that she would rather be intimate with.

I stare at her with a hole in my heart the size of a city.

Begging her to choose me.

Choose me for once.

I’m always the package someone tosses around for their benefit.

Used and worthless.

But I absorb. All my life, I have absorbed the pain like a fucking sponge. I wonder, if someone ever tried to squeeze me, would I bleed? Or maybe nothing would come out because there is nothing left.

I have always kept the truth to myself, and that’s on me.

“I have something for you.” Winona captures my attention again, pulling two books from her backpack. She places them on the table, then pushes them toward me with her finger. “I hope you like it.”

I gulp down the shock, giving it a quick glance, and flick my gaze up to hers. “You got me the special edition of The Crow…? And a manga.”

“I remember you talked about it once, enthusiastically.”

I did.

Once.

And she remembered.

“Thank you.”

“Thank you for the flower you left me a few days ago. I loved it. I’m going to preserve it in a book.” She beams, and my heart swells again.

A few drinks later, we exit the bar and head to the parking lot. Winona walks in a zigzag but refuses to let me carry her.

That little brat.

This is her first time drunk, and she almost falls asleep standing.

“Let’s take you home,” I say, sneaking my hand around her waist while my lit cigarette hangs between my lips.

“I’m fine.” She snatches the cigarette and takes a drag. “This—” she coughs and drops it to the ground, “will kill you.”

I stomp my boot on it. “What doesn’t kill you—”

She stops abruptly to cup my face. “Wow.”

“Winona…”

She squeezes my cheeks. “You’re gorgeous.”

“You are,” I reply, studying her delicate features and memorizing her constellation of freckles that I have memorized a thousand times before.