by Ward, H. M.
He laughs, and says, “So are yours,” right before my thumb moves over him. He moans and grabs my hand. “Sidney.”
“Peter.”
“You’re too— You don’t know what you’re giving up.” His voice is husky. The muscles in his neck are flexed tight. He keeps clenching his jaw and smashing his lips together.
“I know exactly what I’m giving up. I remember who’s waiting for me at home.” My hands slide down his chest. His abs are so ripped. My finger flicks a button on his shirt, just above his waist.
Peter’s shoulders tense. He lets out a ragged breath. Peter’s hand lifts and brushes my cheek. I lean into the touch and close my eyes. He pulls away from me like I burned him. “Sidney, I can’t do this. I can’t.” Peter pulls at his hair and turns away from me. He paces the floor once, then twice.
When he looks up, I panic. I see it in his eyes. He’s going to push me away. I don’t move. I brace for impact, expecting him to open the door and throw me through it, but he doesn’t. He rushes toward me and places hands on either side of my head. I don’t know what he’s doing. I can’t tell if he’s going to yell or—
I don’t get to finish the thought. Peter leans in. His lips are so close to mine. I feel him resist. That part of him is still fighting it, but he doesn’t back away. Peter closes the space. His lips press lightly to mine. It’s a whisper of a kiss. Peter’s still holding back. His body is all taut muscle. When I lift my hands and try to touch him, Peter jumps and pulls away. His face is scrunched with indecision. His hands fist at his sides. He looks like he wants to hit the wall, and turns away from me.
I’m insane. I walk over to him. I’m behind him. I made up my mind. I can’t do this to him. It’s tearing him apart. I feel the strength I need to walk away. It’s faint, but it’s there. “Peter, it’s okay. I’m sorry. I won’t do this to you.”
His face is in his hand. Peter turns around slowly and looks down at me. “I can’t do this to you. I know what you went through to get here. I can’t send you back to the people who did that to you... I can’t let you do it. I love you, Sidney.” His eyes search mine. It feels as though we’re breaking up. Something tightens around my throat. I try to swallow, but I can’t.
“I love you, too, Peter.” I smile at him sadly and turn to leave.
My hand is twisting the knob when he says, “Stay.”
“What?”
“Stay, just a little longer. I can’t let you go, not yet.”
I’m near tears. After everything we’ve been through, I can’t believe I have to walk away from him. Life is so unfair, this is so wrong. I love him and he loves me. The odds are so slim, so miniscule, that a person will find their match. I know he was made for me, and I know I have to leave.
I shake my head. “I can’t. This is an all or nothing kind of deal. I can’t stand being around you and not touching you. You asked me if I’m attracted to you—I am. A lot. Everything about you entices me. Peter, I need to go.” Pressing my lips together, I walk out of his apartment and fly down the steps. I suck in the night air like I’m suffocating. I walk the two blocks to my dorm, alone, thinking.
I’d give up everything for him, but then what? He has no job, I have no money, and we both live in a box.
Love sucks.
CHAPTER 20
I feel hollowed out. Even my skin feels fragile. My fingers drift to my lips. The memory is still there. It’s like I can still feel the pressure of Peter’s mouth, the way he fit perfectly into the seam of my lips.
I can’t see Peter again. That doesn’t really sink in until I’m walking down the street. There’s a good chance that I won’t even be his TA anymore. Strictland will separate us.
I think about how my days will be without Peter, having him so close but not being able to talk to him, or touch him. Oh God, it hurts. It feels like someone took a knife and carved out my heart. I want to double over and cry, but I don’t. I keep walking.
A car full of guys slows as they drive by. They whistle and catcall me before zooming off. When I’m finally on campus again, I’m back in my element. I can handle this. I make a beeline for the dorm. When I get to my room, it’s filled with girls. God, why can’t I ever be alone? Millie looks at me over the tops of several ponytails. They’ve got a vat of blue Kool-Aide and are dipping the ends of their hair into the tub. Tia is sitting by the door. Her arms are folded over her chest and she’s leaning back in a chair.
“Not into blue?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Nah, I’d love blue, but the only way it’ll show up in my hair is if I bleach it first. I’m not bleaching it. It’d probably fall out or something.” She glances up at me, and notices my puffy eyes. “What’s up with you? Something happen?”
I nod. “Yeah, the normal shit. Got chewed out by Strictland for being Peter’s friend, and got attacked by a squirrel. The damn thing ripped my arm off.” Tia looks at my face to see if I’m making stuff up and then back at my arm.
“Holy shit. You’re serious?” she asks, and sits up straight. I nod. Before I can say anything else, she’s up and tugging me out of the room and down the hall. “Millie’s blonde and going to stick her whole head in that bucket. It’s going to take her all night to get the color to show up. So talk. What’s going on with you? Why’d Strictland chew you out?” She pauses and her eyes widen. “Shit, Peter? As in Dr. Peter Granz?” I nod. She pulls me into her room and closes the door. “My roommate is down there with Millie. Spill. What the hell is going on?”
I flop down on her bed with my shoulders slumped forward. I shrug. “I don’t even know. Peter is Dr. Granz. It’s a long story, but I nearly slept with him before I realized who he was.”
Tia’s eyes bug out of her head. “What?”
“Millie dragged me out on a blind date when she wanted to hook up with Brent. I was supposed to meet them there. Long story short, I sat down at the wrong table.” I look up at her face. Tia is really nice. I’ve said stupid crap to her before, but this makes me nervous. “Don’t tell anyone, okay? I don’t want him to get in trouble.”
“I’m not telling anyone, but you have to tell me what happened. How’d you end up with him that night if you were on a date with another guy?”
“The other guy had happy hands. I left early. When I went to the parking lot, Peter was standing there with his hood up. He was new here and alone. Plus he’s hot and funny. I don’t know. I ended up going home with him. We made out. A lot. Before things got out of hand, the phone rang and I left. I recognized him the next morning in class.”
“Holy shit!” she stomps her feet on the floor, way too excited. “So, what now?”
“We grabbed dinner after club. It was nothing, but Strictland showed up and ate with us. Then she kinda gave an ultimatum. Peter gets fired and trashes his career if he continues to see me, and I get flunked and can’t graduate. I can’t repeat classes because of the scholarship. And I have no money. She knows that.”
Tia is at the edge of her seat with her fingers by her mouth. “Oh, my God. But wait, I thought you said nothing was going on?”
“Nothing was going on. We were friends with an awkward start, but…” I sigh and tug at my hair.
“But it’s more than that now?”
“Yeah, way more. Holy fuck, Tia. Like holy frickin’ fuck. I can’t even tell you.” My lips mash together. I want to punch something. “It’s not like I’ve been cut off from my best friend, although he is and I have been—it’s worse than that. I feel like my heart got ripped out.
“And Peter. We were at his apartment fixing this,” I point to the claw marks, “and I kissed him. He said he can’t, but he loves me—”
Tia gasps, “Oh, my God. Do you love him?” I glance up at her. She tenses and shakes the bed with her hands and squeals when I don’t answer. It must be written all over my face because she says, “Oh, my God! That’s so romantic! You love him, but you can’t be with him. What are you going to do?”
I shrug. “Nothing. There’s noth
ing to do. I can’t let him risk his career for me, and I have to graduate. I can’t fuck it up and go home.” I bury my face in my hands and rub hard. Everything is falling apart. I feel so fractured, like I’m crumbling.
“I’ve never heard you curse like that before.”
“There’s not been much to curse about. I have no idea what to do. I have to stay away from him, but I can’t.” I laugh bitterly and wrap my arms around my waist. I can’t chase away the sensations that are choking me. I’m looking at her floor.
Memories well up, uncalled. “That was my first I love you, well, the first one that was real, and then this happens. We aren’t even friends anymore. We can’t be. I have no idea how to deal with this.” My hands are on the sides of my head, and I shove my fingers into my hair.
Tonight started out great. I can’t believe this is happening. Yes, I should have known, but I didn’t. I didn’t know I was falling in love with Peter. I didn’t even realize it until tonight. I’m so damned stupid. How did I not see it? Especially when everyone has been less than tactful about it.
“Oh, God,” I groan into my hands. Looking up, I ask, “What do I do?”
Tia’s face is full of sympathy. “The only thing you can do. Stay away from him and distract yourself with chocolate.”
CHAPTER 21
The next few weeks pass painfully slow. At night I stare at the ceiling. I can’t sleep. It feels like my arms have been chopped off. I have phantom pains. God, and the nightmares. My mind drifts and I see Peter getting hit by a car, falling off a cliff, or getting shot in the chest. Every time it’s the same—I see what’s going to happen moments before it occurs. I run toward Peter, screaming at the top of my lungs, but he doesn’t hear me. I’m never fast enough, never loud enough, and I’m always a second too late. There are never any good-byes; Peter’s simply ripped away from me.
One night the dream is so vivid. Peter is smiling, saying something to me. He’s stepping backward with that wry grin on his face. The ground is hard and dry. The clay cracks, but Peter doesn’t look behind him. The parking lot turns into nothing but miles and miles of cracked red clay. It’s like watching him walk onto thin ice. I’m frantic, calling to him—begging him to come back—but he can’t hear me. The ground under his feet suddenly cracks apart. Peter falls. I launch myself toward him, toward the massive chasm in the ground. I fall at the edge of the hole just in time to have Peter’s fingers narrowly miss mine.
I scream.
I shriek so loudly that the nightmare becomes real. I yell in my bed and dart upright. My body is covered in cold sweat. The sheets are stuck to my body. I’m tangled and thrashing, trying to get free. Millie jumps up and flips on the lights. My hand is on my chest. I’m trying to tell myself that it wasn’t real, that Peter is alive and well, but the dream feels so genuine that I’m close to tears.
Millie’s standing there with a broom in her fists, as though she’s going to bludgeon an intruder. When she sees that no one is around, her arms drop to her sides. “Are you all right?” She rubs her eyes and takes a deep breath.
I nod, but it’s shaky. I can’t speak. What am I afraid of? The nightmare sounds so stupid. The ground doesn’t just eat people, but the dream felt real. I can’t shake the feeling. I yank my blankets off and head to my closet. I pull out sweats and put them on.
Millie is watching me. “Where are you going? It’s 4:00am. You can’t go running now.”
“I have to.” It’s all I can manage to huff out.
“Sidney, wait. I’ll go with you.” Millie’s eyelids are about halfway open. She looks like she’s falling asleep.
“It’s fine. I’m okay. Go back to bed.”
“I can’t. Something’s bothering you and I’ve turned into a shitty friend since Brent came along. Give me a second. I’ll go with you.” She blinks slowly and turns toward her closet. I’m already dressed and pulling on my sneakers.
When I tie the second shoe, I say, “I’d rather go alone. Seriously, go back to bed. I’ll take your pepper spray if you’re worried.”
She yawns. Millie has one leg in her sweats and looks up at me. “Fine, but only if you use the student gym. Don’t run outside. Go use the stair climber or elliptical or something. Promise?”
I nod. “Yeah. I’ll see you at lunch.”
And I’m gone. I run down the stairs and outside into the cold air. It fills my lungs and reminds me what’s real and what’s not. The dreams aren’t real. Peter is alive. I know what the nightmares signify, I know what they mean. Peter was ripped away from me and there’s nothing that I could have done about it. He’s gone. It’s as if he’s dead, but I see his ghost haunting the English building every day.
Strictland removed me as his TA the day after she saw us at dinner. She swapped her TA with his. Now, I work with Strictland. The rumors have stopped. No one is saying anything anymore.
I pound my feet harder and run faster. My lungs burn like I can’t get enough air. My hair swishes back and forth, tickling my neck. I want to run so hard that my body screams in pain. I want to feel something that I know how to deal with, because I don’t know what to do with this.
It’s not the same as the other nightmares. Those had me scared to death, because someone was trying to hurt me. These dreams are the opposite. No one is hurting me, but it feels like my guts are being ripped out. It’s like losing Peter all over again, night after night. When will it stop? The man is still alive. Why is my brain mourning him as if he were dead? I can’t stand it. I want to scream.
Digging in, I push off the ground harder and run faster. I lengthen my stride. My arms pump at my sides and I sprint as fast as I can across campus to the far side where the new gym is located. By the time I get there, I can’t breathe and there’s a stich running up both sides of my ribcage and across my hip.
I swipe my ID card and go inside. Holding my hands on my hips, I stop and suck in air. I stay like that for a few moments in the darkened hallway, just trying to catch my breath.
When the cramp subsides, I walk down to the exercise room. I don’t expect anyone to be here. The halls are empty and the lights are off. I swipe my card and go inside. I find a treadmill and turn it on, increasing the speed up to a full run. I pound the crap out of the thing, sprinting as fast as I can.
A few moments pass and I’m in my own little world. Thoughts float away. The only thing in my head is the pounding of my heart and the rush of air filling my lungs. That’s why he scares the shit out of me.
“Sidney?” Mark’s voice comes from somewhere beside me. I yelp, lose my footing, and step on my sneaker. The result is instantaneous. I fall and get launched off the end of the treadmill. My back slams into the wall. “Holy shit!” Mark pulls out the emergency stop key and the treadmill turns off, before my feet get sucked under the thing. Then, he falls on his knees next to me. “Sidney, I’m so sorry. Are you all right? Can you move?”
I start laughing. It’s the crazy kind of chuckling that makes people really uncomfortable, but I can’t stop. Mark is still kneeling next to me. He glances around. “Awh shit. I broke her.” He runs his hand through his hair and pokes my shoulder. “You okay, there? You sound a little bit nuts.”
I take a deep breath and look over at him. “I am a little bit nuts. Why else would I be here at four in the morning. I assume you’re twisted too, since you were sitting in here in the dark.”
Mark looks offended. “I was not! I was back in the weight room when I heard someone. I came out to see who it was, said your name, made you fall on your ass, and then get battered by the wall.”
I laugh and realize that I do sound way past crazy—and way past tired. I rub my hands over my face and sigh. “It’s not the weirdest thing that’s ever happened.” When I pull my hand away, there’s a streak of blood. “Damn it. I cut my face?”
Mark stands and offers his hand. I put my clean hand in his palm and he pulls me up. “Nah, it’s just a little scrape on your cheek.”
I dab it again with my fing
ers and walk over the mirrors. It’s not that bad, but I look like hell. My hair is a rat’s nest pulled into a ponytail. It’s all bushy. I didn’t bother brushing it before I left. I just pulled it back and snapped the elastic ring around my hair. There are dark circles under my eyes and I look beat.
Mark hands me a hanky. I look over at him, surprised. “It’s not used, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
I take it and say, “Thanks, and that wasn’t what I was thinking at all.” I take the white cotton and run it under the water fountain, getting it damp, and then blot my cheek. “I don’t even know what did this.”
He points to my wrist. “Your watch. Your hands tried to cover your face when you fell. The watch probably scratched you.” I look at my wrist and then back up at him.
“So, what’s your story?” I ask. I don’t want him staring at me, but he is. I glance at him. “Are you always in here at four in the morning?”
Mark puts his hands behind his back and shakes his head. “Nah, it’s usually five by the time I get here. I was early today. As to the reason why, well, I’m a bit of a freak. I only need four hours of sleep.”
I’m dabbing my cheek as he’s talking. When says that, I look up at him, envious. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah, it’s some kind of genetic thing. My mom’s like that. They thought it was ADHD for a long time, but that’s not it. I just don’t need to sleep eight hours to feel good. Four or five, max, and I’m good to go. I can stay out all night and then wake up at the butt crack of dawn.
“Since there’s nothing to do at the dorm, and my roommate kills me if I wake him up, I usually head over here.” He’s leaning against the wall, watching me. Mark’s closer to my age than Peter. This is the kind of guy I should be with. He’s normal, nice, and my peer. He’s not my teacher.
I watch Mark for too long, staring at his face, wondering what he would have done if I threw myself at him at the beginning of the semester—if it was Mark at the table and not Peter. Would he have done as much? Would he have stopped? What would that have done to me? Sometimes I think sex will fix everything. It ruined everything, so it makes sense, sort of.