Page 70 of Everything You Want Me to Be

“I don’t want you to feel that way.”

“Said the actress.”

“I don’t like it, okay?” I shouted, then dropped my head and breathed for a second. “I used to. I used to love it, but now I just feel trapped. There’s no person, no character I can put on that takes away this empty feeling in my gut when I’m not with you. I hate it. I hate that I can’t escape it, I can’t act it away. And I go through every day miserable because all I really want is ...”

I faltered. It wasn’t time to tell him yet.

“What? What do you want?”

“Nothing.”

“Stop lying to me.”

“God, you’re such a teacher.” I turned away from him, unbelievably frustrated. Today wasn’t going at all how I imagined. We should have been wrapped up in this quilt together, laughing, kissing, enjoying every stolen moment. Psychoanalysis should have been the last thing on his mind.

“You want to name everything, to analyze it and shove it into a little box in your head next to a million other boxes just like it. Labels and dates and a neat little synopsis for each one. Fine. I’ve got a synopsis for you. You want to know who I am? You want me to tell you something else that’s true?”

My heart was racing all of a sudden. This wasn’t the plan, but I could feel the words bubbling up in my throat. I couldn’t hide it anymore. I spun back around and gripped his hand, clinging to it, hoping and dreading what was going to happen next.

“I’m Hattie Hoffman, actress, CVS clerk, and Pine Valley high school senior. I’m in love with Peter Lund and I want him to move to New York with me.”

His face froze. He stared at me for what felt like forever and I didn’t know if he was going to hug me or yell at me. We’d never talked about the future. My future, yes, but not his. Not ours. This relationship existed outside of our lives; it had no sense of time or progress.

Suddenly Peter yanked his hand away, stood up, and walked to the edge of the branches hanging over us. I followed him.

“Peter? Say something.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Say yes.”

He laughed again, but it was a hard sound now. It made my stomach clench.

“Oh, okay. I’ll just go to New York with you. That sounds simple.”

“It is. It can be.”

“Where will we live?”

“We can sublet a room somewhere. There’s a million listings on Pulse.”

“And how will we pay for that room?”

“I have over two thousand in savings. And I’ll transfer to one of the pharmacies there.” I rattled off a few of the CVS locations I’d memorized from their website, touching his shoulder, but he pulled away.

“And you can teach,” I added.

“Do you even know what the licensing requirements are in New York?”

“Licensing?”

He laughed that awful laugh again. The conversation was turning on me. This wasn’t supposed to happen. If I had taken more time and researched things, I could have answered him. I could have shot down his every objection. But no—he demanded I be honest and like an idiot I was. Now he wouldn’t even look at me. I felt the desperation in my throat, closing it off like stage fright, and it made me bounce on my toes, quick bounces to try to shake it off.

“We’ll figure everything out. We’ve got the whole summer to figure it out.”

“The whole summer?” He stretched out the wordwhole,using that sarcastic voice he got when he wanted me to feel like I was four years old.

“How long do you need? People move to New York all the time.”