Patch Up (3 page)

I clear my throat, my eyes wandering between him and the door just behind his lofty frame. For the first time this the year, I’m thinking of skipping this class. You know, the flight or fight instinct? It’s basic psychology. Well, I never mastered the fight instinct, always falling into the flight category. This time was no exception.

“Don’t even think about it,” he warns me with amusement in his deep voice.

My eyes come back to his face and meet his sparkling eyes. I can’t believe it. My cheeks are hot. What’s the matter with this guy? I make a face and cross my arms over my chest, annoyed that he knows what I am thinking of doing. 

“What do you want?” My voice sounds steadier than I am. My heart is in a frenzy and it’s not because I’m attracted by this guy … it is pure fear. When will I cease to feel so frightened all the time? 

“For starters, I’d like to understand this thing about Star Wars. Are you a fan or something?” he asks me, leaning against the little desk beside mine; his long, strong arms crossed over his broad chest. He looks intimidating even if he’s trying to play it sympathetic with me. Unfortunately, I don’t often react like normal people. I’m too neurotic for this.

I glance at the other students talking animatedly about their weekend and already making plans for the next. Star Wars break is over, or maybe it’s seeing the TA talking with me that impressed them or something. After all, this tall guy is helping Dr. Dills grade our papers. Deep inside there is a big part of me buried under tons of layers of insecurities, but right now I’m only gloating at the prospect that this TA impressed them. 

“It’s ridiculous, and like barely middle school level,” I answer with a dismissive wave of my hand. The other TAs are looking at us with smirks that I know all too well. They think I’m going to sleep with this guy. Perfect. 

“And?”

“You know how annoying you are?” I retort through gritted teeth, glaring at him. His smile broadens, showing his perfectly white teeth in stunning contrast with his naturally tanned skin.

“I usually qualify as a charming guy, but I can go with annoying.” 

I frown and shrug. “My name is Skye Walker.”

He looks at me a second, then at the other students. One of his eyebrows shoots up. He bites his well-defined lower lip, trying not to give in to the building laughter that I’m sure is coming. Predictable. “And that’s all?” 

I nod slowly, waiting for him to laugh in my face and even maybe join in on a round of Star Wars lame references, but nothing comes. He runs a hand through his dark hair. Some locks get stuck on top of his head, but it looks good for some reason. 

“I told you it was ridiculous.” 

“Yeah, and pathetic. Do you realize that these guys must have spent countless hours in front of their TV to watch the movies if they can make the jokes again and again? And these lame impersonations of a freaky green wrinkled thing?”

Despite myself, a small laugh escapes me before I put a hand in front of my mouth to contain it. The TA’s eyes sparkle even more. He cocks his head on one side before he leans toward my face. “Do you know that I know there’s something really wrong?” he says in a hushed tone, his deep voice sending chills down my spine both from the intensity of his voice and from the meaning of his words. 

“I don’t know what you mean.” Playing dumb is the lamest tactic to divert the attention of someone that nosy. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that I want someone to know and be interested by what’s happening. 

“I think you do.” His dark eyes never leave mine. He doesn’t even blink. “I don’t know what’s going on, but don’t forget you’re in a Psychology class and I’m a TA, which means that I’m not a complete newbie in Psychology.”

“Please, go on,” I encourage him with a fake smirk, like I’m amused by his ideas. Not so much. My breath hitches and I don’t like it. It’s a dead giveaway that he’s onto something.

“You’ve got several markers of someone depressed.” His gaze travels up and down my upper body, the only part of myself visible above the little desk. “Your sleeves are always covering your hands.”

“I’m always freezing and it’s winter,” I retort calmly, not rushing my words out.

“You often, if not always, hide behind your hair.”

“If you had my hair, you’d understand that I can’t do anything to tame it.”

“You always look at the ground.”

“I don’t want to slip and fall on ice.”

“You never smile.”

“I’m here to study.”

“You never talk to anybody.”

“I was at a party with my roommate.”

He sighs and shrugs. I uncross my arms, beginning to relax. I know how to react to these observations. He’s not the first person trying to prove something about me. 

“Then tell me if I’m so wrong, why you’re so tense and dead set on avoiding me?”

“Maybe because I don’t like you.”

“Once again, I call bullshit. It’s funny you know, I was just like you a few years back. I didn’t want to acknowledge that I was depressed and didn’t want any help but you ...” He lets the end of his sentence trail off, his eyes probing me to say something. However, I keep my mouth shut. “You have something going on that you don’t want to think about and that’s what worries me, because when you’re forced to face this thing, if you’re alone you won’t make it in one piece.”

His words sting. I level down my eyes and keep my hands on the keyboard of my laptop. My head fogs up. A lump forms in my throat, making it difficult to swallow. “What if I am already broken in to pieces?”

I can’t believe I said this. I can’t believe I said this in a classroom full of students. I can’t believe I said this to a guy and I don’t even know his name. But he’s the only person to ever insist, to ever doubt my words when I said that everything is okay. Even my parents that I’m close to, or used to be, are not aware of how unhappy I am, how things are so bad in my life. 

“You’re still up, still functioning. You’re strong, and it means you’ve got more pieces that stick together than you think,” he replies just above a whisper.

“You don’t know me.”

“Is it a challenge? Because I love a challenge,” he says playfully, his voice louder than seconds before.

I squint up at him and shake my head. “It’s not. I don’t want to deal with your crap.”

“Sorry, Skye, but you gave me your full name. Now I can track you down and you’ll be forced to deal with me.”

“You’re not a stalker,” I reply, almost amused by the stubborn lines that appear on his forehead, half hidden by thick locks of raven hair.

“You don’t know me either. Maybe I’m a creepy guy who likes to follow freshman girls around until they confess everything.”

“But I won’t. Everyone has to deal with crappy things, that doesn’t mean there’s something more to it.”

“The fact that you’re so into driving me away makes me believe that you’re hiding something huge and I can’t just ignore it. When I told you that you remind me of myself, it’s true. I’m not into psychology for nothing.”

I sigh and push away some of my hair. His gaze follows the movement with careful attention. He looks at me like I’m some kind of puzzle with lost pieces he’s trying to find. It’s disturbing, and yet, something in him intrigues me too because when he talks about his past, something raw and intense passes in his eyes and on his face, hardening his features. I don’t know what he has had to deal with, but one thing is for sure, he’s not over it yet no matter what he wants to believe or claims.

“So, what do you want?” I ask as Dr. Dills walks in the room, a scowl on his face that makes me realize that the class won’t be that fun. When this teacher is in a bad mood, he does not take his time to explain every concept, which means that I’m going to be spending more time at the library. I slump in my chair, already exhausted. 

“To spend time with you … over coffee.”

I wrinkle my nose. “I’ve got a class just after this one.”

“Me too. What about tomorrow at five?”

I don’t even know why, but I nod. It’s just a coffee after all, it’s not like I have to confess all my dirty little secrets to this guy, especially since I still don’t know his name.

“By the way, my name is Duke Ashdown,” he says over his shoulder as he’s walking to Dr. Dills’ desk with the other TAs already waiting. 

Duke Ashdown. Interesting name and interesting mixed ethnicities. He looks back at me, giving me one dazzling smile that leaves me dumbstruck on my chair. I don’t like that. I don’t want to connect with anybody, and I don’t want him poking his perfect straight nose in my stuff. It would put me in a weak spot and I’m not ready for this. I can’t open up, and this guy is far too dangerous for a broken girl like me. I won’t meet him for coffee. My mind is set.

*  *  *

“How is Dad?” I ask my mom as I’m folding my clean clothes and putting them in my dresser. My cell phone is on speaker on my bed. 

Calling my parents is not easy. I love them and we have a great relationship, but over the last three years things have changed. I can’t talk to them like I used to and I don’t want them to be worried about me. So it’s all about being overly happy over the phone, which is the same as lying. 

“You know him. He’s delighted to show the new soldiers how to pilot. Sometimes I wonder if he’s an adult when I hear him talk about the planes.”

I laugh and it’s a genuine one. My father is an instructor for the U.S. Air Force. He used to be a pilot, sent to war all over the world, but when I was around five, he decided to accept a position as an instructor and spend more time with his family. He’s known as a badass in his field and it’s always funny to see him at home, so obedient to my mother and a real teddy bear with me. He’s the antithesis of what people have in mind when they think about a military man.

“It’s Dad.” I put my last sweater in the dresser and sit on my bed, my eyes wandering to the opposite side of the room where Kate’s side is decorated in different shades of red. I don’t need to ask her what her favorite color is.

“You sound tired, honey. Is everything okay? Did you speak with Sean?” 

My hands clench my green comforter. Sean, my ex. She never asks anything about him. I take a deep breath in silence and try to relax the tense muscles in my back. “I saw him at a party last weekend, but I didn’t talk to him.”

“Are you okay with that?”

What is it with everybody these days? Kate, this Duke guy, and now my mother. It’s infuriating. “Why? It’s over, it’s been months and I’m over him.”

“So you met someone?” Is it me, or does she sound hopeful? I make a face and lie down on my bed. 

Is it that weird to focus on my classes and not look for a replacement for Sean? Furtively, Duke’s face comes to my mind, but I push it away quickly. It’s not like he sent me any vibes that I interest him—after all, he is gorgeous and I’m ... not. And I don’t care about him even if I know he’s probably waiting for me right now. Somehow, I feel uneasy standing up this guy who seems genuinely worried about me, but I don’t want to risk being confronted by his never ending questions and to face the possibility that he wants to lure me to sleep with him. Because, let’s face it, this guy must be a player with his good looks and his self-assurance. 

“No, I didn’t, Mom. I’m busy,” I sigh in reply, unable to hide my annoyance. 

“Honey, maybe you should go out more. You know, you can take a break from time to time. College is also about having fun,” she says softly, like she’s trying to tame a wild animal. 

My throat closes up. Does she feel that worried about me? Does she really see through my shield? I thought I did a great job over Christmas break when I was at home. I laughed even if I wasn’t in the mood, I talked with them—mostly about my classes—and tried to behave as I had in previous years. 

“Sorry if I’m not that into having my shoes puked on by people I don’t know,” I mumble darkly into the cell phone. 

“Oh, honey ...” she begins before she’s interrupted by several loud knocks at the door. “Is someone at your door?”

Is it weird to hear your own mother more excited at the prospect you have a visitor than you are? Because right now, I think it’s a pain in the ass to have to stand up and leave the horizontal position that my bed offers. I groan. 

“Apparently. It must be for Kate.” Some guy that is smitten by my roommate but who she won’t give the time of day any longer. Poor guy. “Wait a second.” I stand up, take my phone in my hand, and open the door, a frown on my face.

In front of me, with a mischievous grin plastered on his face, is my very own pain in the ass. Duke. I shake my head and close my eyes briefly. Great. “What are you doing here? How did you find my room?”

“You sure know how to greet someone, Skye,” he says with a stifled laugh that annoys me even more. 

“Honey? What’s going on?” My mother’s voice comes from the phone still in my hand. 

Duke’s smile doesn’t falter. In fact, he seems determined to wait for me to say something. I look from his face to my phone and back to his face before I realize that not only is my mother virtually a witness to this, but also several people who are ogling our way. Sometimes I wonder if they have a life outside of gossiping and parties. Go study people!

“Nothing, Mom. It’s just ... a friend,” I say with fake enthusiasm that sounds so sugary that it makes him frown. Luckily my mother buys it, like always.