Page 43 of What We Break
"Yeah." I'm picking at a thread on the couch cushion. Very cool, very casual.
"You like her."
"Yeah."
"So what's the problem?"
I stand up because I can't sit still anymore. Pace to the window. Pace back. Blake watches me with a cool, annoying look on his face. Must be nice to be so unbothered by anything. Asshole.
"There's no problem."
Blake stares at me for a long moment. "You know, for someone who's good at reading people, you're shit at reading yourself."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means you're scared."
"I'm not scared."
"You're terrified," Blake continues like I didn't say anything. "Because for the first time in a long time, you're thinking about letting someone get close enough to matter."
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I want to argue with him, tell him he's wrong, but the truth is sitting right there between us.
"That's not..." I start, then stop. "That's not what this is about."
"Isn't it?"
I look toward my phone, still buried under the pillow on the couch. Four days of staring at it, wanting to call her, wanting to see her again, but making excuses to not reach out.
"She's different," I say finally, dropping back onto the couch.
"Different how?"
"I don't know. Just... different." I scrub my hands over my face. "When I'm with her, it doesn't feel like I'm playing a part or going through the motions. It's not like those other dates where I'm counting down until I can politely leave. With her, I wanted to stay. I wanted to know everything about her. I wanted—" I stop, because I'm starting to sound unhinged. "It feels real."
"And that scares you."
"Yeah. It scares me."
Blake’s brow furrows, staring at me like he’s going to pop the top of my head off and root around inside. "This about Tracy?"
My throat gets tight. We don't talk about Tracy. We especially don't talk about the state I was in when Blake found me a few months after she left—after Jared, after everything.
"No. Maybe. I don't know."
"Because that was different. You were—" He stops, shakes his head. "You weren't you. And she couldn't handle it."
"And what if Laine can't either?" There it is. The thing I've been circling for four days.
Blake doesn't answer right away. He's picking at his thumbnail, not looking at me. "I don't know, man. Maybe she can't." He shrugs, a tight motion. "But you're not that guy anymore. And sitting here not calling her isn't going to tell you shit."
He's got me there.
"I just don't want to fuck this up," I say.
"By not calling her? That's a great fucking strategy. That'll win her over for sure."
"No fuckface. By moving too fast. By wanting too much too soon." I run my hands through my hair. I'm probably making it stick up in twelve directions, but whatever. "What if I get attached and thensomething happens? What if she decides this isn't what she wants? What if I'm too much? What if I'm not enough? What if?—"
