"What if I can't control it with her?" I ask.
"What if you can?"
"That's not good enough. The stakes are too high."
"The stakes are always high when you care about someone. That's how it works."
He walks away and I go back to work, but my mind is still in juvie.
Still seeing the blood on the tile, still hearing the wet sound of fists on flesh.
Still feeling the satisfaction that made me hate myself.
My phone buzzes. It’s a text from Everly.
Everly: You're avoiding me.
I frown at the screen. I’m not. I’ve been counting the hours since last night.
Me: I'm not avoiding you.
Everly: Then why are you being weird today?
Because last night I said something I can’t take back. I don’t type that part.
Me: I'm not being weird.
Everly: You promised.
The word lands heavier than it should.
Me: I did promise.
Everly: So?
Me: So, I’m still meeting you.
Everly: When?
Me: Now.
There’s a pause, then:
Everly: At your place?
Me: Yeah.
The idea of her in my flat hits me square in the chest. The place where I don’t pretend to be anything but what I am.
Fuck.
I type before I can talk myself out of it.
Me: Wait.
Everly: What?
Me: Change of plans.