Page 24 of Fifty First Times (Sharing You 0.40)
My insides twist. “I’m not sure I can.”
“Vacation,” he says, and I see his hand go to his face. “Damn. I forgot.”
There’s a full second where I think about just going with the lie, but then I take a deep breath. “We’re not going anywhere. I just said that because I was scared to see you.”
“So I blew off classes today for no reason?”
I smile at the tease in his voice. “I guess so. Sorry.”
He pulls me tighter to his side. “Totally worth it.”
Three
“TELL ME THE truth. How fake does this look?” I say, pointing at my eye after we settle into the rattan loveseat on my back deck.
Rick came straight to my house on his way home for break today. We Skyped for hours yesterday, and anytime I lifted my hand to cover my face, he called me on it. I’m getting used to him looking at me.
He leans closer, inspecting my face, and I work really hard not to turn away. “A little.”
I glare at him. “I said tell me the truth.”
“Okay.” I see the blur of his hand as he tosses it up. “Pretty fake. But it’s not gross or anything.”
My fingers cover my face. “I’m supposed to get an implant. They say it’s more natural-looking.”
He gently pulls my hand away and weaves his fingers into mine. “That would be cool, if it would make you feel better about it.”
I still don’t lift my head. “Wouldn’t you? I mean, you’re the one who has to look at me.”
“I don’t have to look at you. I want to look at you. And I think you’re beautiful just the way you are.”
My insides skitter. “With a fake-looking eye?” I say, my voice all skepticism.
“With a fake-looking eye,” he confirms.
“There’s something wrong with you.” I tip my face up to the sun and slouch deeper into the cushions.
He leans close and his breath tickles my ear as he says, “You are wrong with me. You’ve so totally gotten under my skin.”
I shake my head, but I can’t stop the smile. “Like a flesh-eating disease.”
“Exactly!”
I crack up. I can’t help it.
He stands from the loveseat and holds out his hand. “C’mon.”
I take it and he pulls me up. “Where?”
“I’m taking you out.”
“Or not,” I say, twisting my hand out of his grasp.
He breathes out a slow sigh. “So you’re never leaving the confines of this house? Like, for the rest of your life?”
I shrug. “Maybe after I get my new eye and they fix my face.”
There’s a long silence. In it, I try to make out his expression, but can’t. “You’re selling the world short, V.”
