Page 81 of Try Me

“Sit,” I told him. “You’re making me edgy.” I’d been listening to all of this with my ass propped against my desk, arms folded across my chest like I could keep the bubble of blackness inside from spilling outward. I was surprised at the level of calm I felt. Then I realized why.

Of course this was where we ended up. Of course. To have expected anything otherwise was ludicrous.

I pushed off the desk and closed my hands around Mark’s shoulders, feeling the muscles tense, then relax in my grip. He drew a deep breath and then nodded, sitting on the bed.

“Sorry,” he said glumly. “I don’t know what to do.”

I laughed, an unhappy, hollow sound as I dropped onto the edge of the bed next to him and then sprawled on my back. My knuckles throbbed, the stupidity of the outburst behind every painful pulse. “I know.”

“God, the library thing was stupid. Incredibly hot and incredibly stupid.” He flopped back and lolled his head toward me with a tiny smile. “Okay, lemme think.” He rubbed his palms together briskly, trying to muster up enough enthusiasm for us both. I’d always liked that about him, too, his unrelenting, annoying optimism.

I took his hands in mine and turned them over. Smooth, thick knuckles. Unexpectedly elegant fingers. His mom had made him take piano lessons until he was fifteen. He’d been good at it, too. I’d forgotten that until just now.

“Maybe I’d never get called to testify. Maybe he was just bluffing. Or if something happened, I could work a couple of years and then apply to law school after everything died down.” I had no idea how far Gordon Farrow would truly go to keep me out of Mark’s life, but gut instinct told me he wasn’t a man who bluffed.

Our eyes met, and the fiery resolve in Mark’s ebbed with understanding as his breathing slowed and synced up with mine.

“Fuck.”

I nodded my agreement to that sentiment and smoothed Mark’s hair back from his face. I wanted to kiss him, but for the first time in months, I was afraid to.

“Fuck,” he whispered again, scrubbing his palms over the persistent stubble on his cheeks. “Outplayed by my own goddamn father.”

Neither of us spoke for a long time. The digital clock on my bedside table moved meaninglessly through a series of numbers. My roommate’s footsteps echoed in the hall, coming and going. My heartbeat thudded a steady bassline to the sound of my life unraveling. Again.

“We have to both agree,” Mark said. I couldn’t look at him yet. “We have to agree that this is the smart decision. It has to be mutual, no more bad blood between us.”

I nodded slowly. “We were friends before. We can still be that, without all the other stuff.”

“Are you sure? Because I’m not.”

“No,” I admitted.

Mark turned his head toward me. “Maybe in in a few years, when everything settles down, and if we…” He broke off, jerking his gaze from mine.

“Just for now, yeah. You need a car and tuition and rent.”

“You need to graduate and get into law school.”

This wasthe practical solution. The right choice. People made them every day. I’d been doing it since I was eighteen and gave up walking onto the U’s basketball team so I could do work-study instead. And now I needed every advantage I could muster to get into a good law school. Mark needed to finish his senior year without suddenly having to worry about money.

But in spite of all that, every justification felt empty. And because I could read the same sentiment in Mark’s deep frown, I made sure to smooth my expression out to keep it from showing.

He leveled an introspective stare on me, and my heart stormed in my chest, some crazy fool of an idea in my head that he was about to tell me he loved me. If he did, I wouldn’t be able to stick this out. I wouldn’t be able to stop the feeling inside me from becoming enormous. From swallowing me whole. From making me willing to throw away everything I’d worked for.

A quiet voice in the back of my mind said it was already too late.

And then Mark exhaled and snapped his gaze away. “Okay. Friends. I can do that.Wecan do that.” The words were small and sharp as a switchblade. They sliced through me mercilessly, even as I plastered a smile on my face.

27

Mark

Ifiled toward the exit of PB&W’s auditorium in a groggy shuffle. I’d been sleeping like shit, and for the first time I was looking forward to a weekend just so I could hibernate for forty-eight hours.

Chet caught my eye as he passed and gave me a thin smile I tried to return. Looking at him hurt. Thinking about him hurt.

He’d asked me if I’d wanted to stay Monday night, but I couldn’t. I knew if I’d crawled into bed with him—inevitably touched him, kissed him, fucked him—I might not ever get out.