This is What Goodbye Looks Like (27 page)

“Did you tell Landon it was for me?”

“No. Why?” His face suddenly pales. “That’s not soup, is it?”

I clear my throat and wince. “I think he just heated up some grape soda and threw a ton of pepper in it.” I smack my tongue against the roof of my mouth, trying to dislodge the last of the taste.

Seth runs both hands through his hair and lets out a frustrated groan. “Shit. Just...
shit
. I’m so, so sorry. I had no idea, I swear.”

Maybe it’s the look of bewildered horror on Seth’s face, or maybe it’s just the ridiculous prank itself, but for whatever reason, I start giggling. Seth apparently thinks I’m crying again, and he lurches toward me, like he wants to pull me back into a hug. But then I start laughing. Like,
really
laughing.

He hesitates for a moment, stopping a few inches from me. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” I reply, my voice strangely choked. “Absolutely nothing is funny right now. But you’re still too sweet to me, and Landon’s still a total idiot, and—” I shrug and wipe at my cheek, wincing when I find a hot tear there. “And everyone just keeps going on, even though my sister isn’t. And I hate it so much. But I also think it’s the most relieving thing ever. And I think I might also hate myself for thinking that.”

He sits up, but I grab the sleeve of his hoodie, tugging him next to me as I lay back on my mattress. He doesn’t resist and lies right next to me, adjusting the blankets so they wrap around us. His arms curl around me, strong and warm and gentle. I press my face into his shoulder and close my eyes, concentrating on the sound of his steady heartbeat.

“I can go get you some real food,” he murmurs, pressing the back of his hand to my cheek. “I’m so sorry about that.”

I shake my head. “No, stay here. And quit apologizing. You had no idea what was in there, and Landon had no idea I’d be the one drinking it. So there’s nothing to be sorry for.” A stray giggle escapes my mouth, but it turns into a choked hiccup half-way out. “Actually, I think it’s cute that he does this stuff to you.”

“I kind of like it,” Seth admits, a faint smile flitting across his lips. “No one ever pranked me before I came to Harting. Everyone treated me like a teacup. But Landon...he obviously doesn’t.”

“I like him,” I say. “I mean, he can totally be an ass, but he’s a well-intentioned ass.” I figure I’d better put in a good word for him, just to make sure Seth doesn’t yell at him too badly for the “soup.”

“I’m still going to kill him,” Seth says, as if reading my mind. His expression suddenly turns solemn again. “But, seriously, Lea. You need to eat.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re definitely not.”

I groan and bury my face back into his shoulder. He takes the hint and shuts up, just lying there silently as he brushes his hand through my hair. His touch is more gentle than I thought possible as he strokes a few stray strands back into place.

“Landon says your hair is black,” he murmurs in my ear, letting his fingers skim along my neck.

“Yeah.” It’s not until I hear the tightness in my voice that I realize how tense I am. “Well, more of a really dark brown. But everyone thinks it’s black.” I take a deep breath and try to relax a little, willing myself to accept his touch. “But my skin is just about as pale as it gets. Like, I could probably camouflage myself outside with all this snow.”

He smirks a little. “Do you normally walk around naked outside? I was kind of thinking it was an exception that you showed up yesterday without a coat on.”

Heat rushes to my face, and I look away from him, even though there’s no way he can see the blush creeping into my cheeks. “Of course not. No. I didn’t mean it like that.”

He gently pokes me in the ribs. “I’m teasing, Lea.”

I can’t help but smile just a little. “Go ahead, laugh it up. Trust me, there aren’t any albino jokes I haven’t heard before.”

His lips pull into a frown. “You’ve been bullied for how you look?”

His tone is a mixture of anger and concern, and before I can stop myself, I reach up and place a hand on his cheek. I’m not exactly sure what I’m doing—letting him know I’m okay, I guess. Or maybe just indulging myself.

“I was never really bullied,” I say. “Teased, yeah. But I kind of asked for it. I was the shy, nerdy girl who always walked around with a camera and rarely talked. And I kind of liked it that way. Not having to constantly talk to people, I mean.”

“I’m glad you talk to me,” he says softly.

“I am, too.”

He suddenly sits up and swings his legs off the side of the bed, and for a moment, I think I’ve done something wrong. But he just softly touches my arm and says, “I’m not leaving here until you eat something. And I have a test in thirty minutes that I can’t miss, which means either I’m getting you food asap, or I’m failing Latin.”

I give a relenting sigh and wave toward the dresser in the corner. Then I remember he can’t see and say, “Walk two steps forward, then turn to your left and keep going until you hit the dresser. The second drawer from the top has my stash of food.”

I’d get it myself, but I haven’t eaten since yesterday, and a sudden wave of dizziness washes over me at the thought of standing up. Seth gives me a mock glare, and it looks so much like Ms. Thorne’s you’re-in-deep-shit look that I almost laugh. I have no idea how he can imitate an expression he’s never seen, but he does it almost perfectly.

“Miss Holder,” he says, his voice dripping with mock disapproval. “Don’t you know that food isn’t allowed in the personal dorms?”

“What about guys? And pets? Those aren’t allowed, either.”

His expression cracks, and he lets out a small chuckle. “Okay, you’ve got me there. Except for the pet thing. I’ll have you know that Koda is a furred goddess, not a pet.”

Koda pops her head up at the sound of her name and gives a little tail wiggle. I smile just a bit, and I suddenly wish Seth wasn’t blind so he could see that he’s doing the impossible and cheering me up.

Seth turns toward my dresser and follows my directions, coming to the drawers with surprising ease. He finds the second drawer in a matter of seconds, pulls it open, and stops there, waiting for further instructions. I bite my lip as I realize what he’s going to have to do next. Hopefully, he won’t notice what’s in the drawer if he can’t see it.

“Um, lift the clothes out from the right side of the drawer. There’s a shoebox under them with the snacks.”

He nods and does exactly that, only to freeze when he lifts up the clothes. “Lea?”

“Um, yeah?”

“Am I holding your bras right now?”

“...Yeah?”

It’d seemed like such a brilliant idea when I’d first put the snacks there. No one sifts through someone else’s bras, so no one would ever find my illicit food stash. Unless, of course, I tell someone where the stash is and then end up seeming like a giant pervert.

Great. Just great. I should have gotten up and grabbed the food myself. Getting dizzy would have been a hell of a lot less embarrassing than this.

A smirk slowly spreads across Seth’s face. “Well, if you wanted me touching your bra, you didn’t have to send me all the way across the room.”

“Shut up!” My voice turns into a strangled squeak. “Just, just grab the shoebox and put the bras back, okay?”

“Is this all part of some elaborate plan for seduction? Like, is the shoebox actually filled with condoms or something?” He holds up one of the bras, waving it a little as it dangles in front of him. “Because, you know, there was no need for a plan. You could have just said, ‘Hey, Seth, I really want you to check out my lingerie because I have the hots for you.’”

“Seth!” I can’t think of any good comebacks, so squeaking his name seems as good of a reply as any. But as my cheeks burn with embarrassment, my lungs start tickling with another sensation.

And then I’m laughing again, a little more hysterically this time, because it all just seems so ridiculous. Ridiculous that I’m still breathing and talking and living, and soon my sister won’t be able to do any of that. Ridiculous that time hasn’t stopped to acknowledge the tragedy of it all. Ridiculous that this boy in front of me has lost even more than I have, and he’s still goofy and sweet enough to try to cheer me up.

And, oh hell, he’s still holding my bra.

“Put it
down
,” I beg him, and he chuckles as he tosses it aside. Then he grabs the shoebox of snacks and comes back to my bed, sitting right next to me. He shuffles around the bags of chips and dried fruit I have in the shoebox and then heaves a dramatic sigh.

“Well, damn. No condoms.”

“It’s not like I’d have the type that fit you, anyway,” I say, poking at his chest. “I think you have to special-order the extra small ones.”

He sticks his tongue out at me and snatches a bag of crackers from the box. “For that, I’m making you share your illegal snacks.”

“As long as you don’t snitch on me to Ms. Thorne,” I say, grabbing a bag of dried apples for myself.

He runs his fingers along the edges of the snack packaging, stopping when he feels the rounded corners. “Cheese crackers?” he guesses.

I peer at the label. “Yep.”

“I thought so. The cheese ones always have those weird corners. Or at least the organic brand does.” He pulls open the bag and raises an eyebrow at me. “Let me guess. Brie made you buy these?”

“She says I’m going to live forty years longer because they’re organic.”

He rolls his eyes. “I don’t know what sort of science they’re teaching you girls in California, but it’s not actually science.”

I lean against him, letting my cheek rest on his shoulder. He pops a cheese cracker in his mouth and then nudges me in the side.

“You’re not eating.”

“I’m really not hungry.”

He sighs. “Am I going to have to force-feed you those apples?”

I look down at the bag in my hand. “How do you know they’re apples?”

“They’re apples. Don’t you realize how unique their smell is?”

“No.”

“Well, it’s unique. And it’s supposed to be eaten, so get to it.”

“You’re bossy when you’re worried,” I grumble, but I do as he says and take a bite of the dried fruit. It’s chalky and tasteless, although I’m not sure if that’s because it’s organic or because my taste-buds are just as numb and tired as the rest of me.

“Thanks for coming,” I say, picking my fingernail at a piece of the apple. “It means a lot. Really.”

“Of course,” he says. Then he sets aside his crackers and wraps his arms around me, resting his cheek on top of my head. I reach up and brush my fingertips against his face, letting them trail along his strong jaw and the short stubble there.

“You’re cute when you don’t shave.”

My lungs freeze up as soon as the words are out, not letting me take them back, not letting me add to them.

But all he says is, “Hmm.” He sounds drowsy, or maybe just relaxed, which is strange, because being this close to him makes my pounding heart feel like it’s about to burst out of my chest. Seth lifts one hand to run it through the ends of my hair.

“I’m cute for about four days,” he says, letting his fingers drift lightly along my collarbone. “Then Brie starts calling me a caveman, and I run the risk of Landon putting wax strips on my cheeks while I’m sleeping.”

I’m almost too distracted to speak, but I manage to say, “He did not.”

“He totally did. And I totally kicked his ass for it.”

I take a deep breath, working up the guts to ask the question I’ve been wondering practically since I met him. “Why don’t you date Brie?”

He lets out a short laugh, the same type Brie gave when I asked her that question. “Brie’s pretty much my sister. I mean, I care about her a ton, but it’s not—” He cuts off and clamps his mouth shut.

“Not what?”

He hesitates a moment longer and then blurts out, “It’s not like how I feel about you.”

I go quiet. Silent, actually. I think every part of my body shuts down in that moment, except my brain, which screams and sobs and squeals all in the matter of point-five seconds. Then it freezes just as bad as the rest of me.

Seth gulps. In the silent room, it sounds about as loud as a jet plane starting up.

“If you’re just friends with someone, you’re not supposed to feel that way,” I murmur. “Right?”

“No,” he admits. His muscles tense and relax, tense and relax. It’s like he’s trying to convince himself to let me go and give me some space, but he can’t get his arms to cooperate.

“So what does that make us?” I ask.

He considers this for a second and then clears his throat. “More than friends?”

“More than friends,” I repeat, trying out the words. They’re strangely fitting. No matter how I look at it, our lives have entwined in a way that goes beyond simple friendship. “I think I like that.”

“I didn’t mean to say any of this.” He offers me a nervous smile. “Not today, I mean. This is obviously
really
shitty timing.”

“It’s okay.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not.” His cheeks are a little flushed, and he sounds almost shy. I like this side of him, the innocence that hides beneath all his pain and stoicism.