Bend Me, Break Me (17 page)

Then again, I’d never been with anyone like her. Ingrid was in a class by herself.

My fingers dug into her hips and she very slowly ground them on me. I wasn’t even sure she knew what she was doing, but my body had its own ideas and I couldn’t help the groan that escaped my mouth. My eyes slammed shut and I honestly thought I was going to die if she did that again.

“Coen?” She said, and my eyes popped open to see her looking down at me with shock on her face. “What are we doing?”

Wasn’t that the question?

“Honestly? I have no idea. But I do know that I’ve never wanted anything more than I want you right now.” Maybe it wasn’t the right thing to say, but I had to say it.

Instead of climbing off me, or telling me that I was pushing things too far, or doing any of the things I thought she would do, she smiled slowly.

“I know what you mean.”

Oh, fuck me. This girl was definitely going to kill me.

“So what happens now?” I asked.

“I have no idea. But I think… I think I should probably get off you before we do something that either of us is going to regret.” Oh, Ingrid. I could never regret a moment spent with you.

“Or you could keep doing that thing with your hips and we can see where this goes?” I could hear the pleading in my voice and I hated it. I didn’t want to pressure her at all. “But you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Ever.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“It’s not that I don’t want to, Coen. It’s so not that. I just… I can’t feel like this right now.”

“You mean you shouldn’t,” I corrected and she opened her eyes. It was a wonder I could even form sentences with the minimal amount of blood that was going to my brain.

“I-I don’t know,” she stuttered and I could feel the moment starting to cool, at least for her. After a beat of silence, she swung her leg back over me and went back to the position she’d been sitting in before the kissing had happened.

I lay there for a second, trying to gather myself back together. It was also painfully obvious just how much I wanted her. I was embarrassed and wanted to move, but I just couldn’t seem to.

“I’m sorry,” she said in a small voice.

“You have nothing to be sorry about, Ingrid. Nothing. I don’t know what this thing between us is, but I know that I don’t want to lose you. Even if we just stay platonic friends. I want you in my life. I need you in my life, Ingrid.” Every now and then I said too much about how I felt about her and this was one of those times.

“I want you in my life. I just don’t know what that means. I want you and I want to kiss you, but I don’t want to want you at the same time. It’s just…” she trailed off and then put her face in her hands and groaned.

“Believe me, I know. I didn’t plan for this.” This wasn’t a lie. I never planned to fall for her, but I should have known it was inevitable the first time I saw her. There was no stopping it now. All I wanted was her.

“This is crazy,” she said with a little breathless laugh as she pulled a hand through her hair.

“Not really. I knew the first time I saw you that I wanted to talk to you. I don’t know if I believe in fate, but if we hadn’t been put in the same class, we might never have met, so what would you call that?” She shrugged one shoulder.

“I don’t know. I definitely don’t believe in fate. And if one more person tells me that everything happens for a reason, I’m going to flip a table,” she said. I knew exactly why she felt like that and I had to agree with her.

“I know. I hate it when people say that. I just want to show them a picture of a baby with cancer and ask how the hell could there be any reason for that.” She looked at me and our eyes locked. We understood one another perfectly.

“You’re kind of amazing, Coen LaCour,” she said, stroking my cheek with her fingertips. A fire flared inside me, shooting sparks everywhere.

“Yeah, well.” I shrugged, unsure what to say to that.

She broke the contact and glanced down at her phone.

“It’s late. You should probably go.” I made no move to get up.

“Yeah, I should. But I don’t want to.” I couldn’t reel the words back in once they were out.

“I don’t want you to go either,” she said, surprising both of us.

“Oh,” I said.

“Oh,” she replied.

I didn’t know what I was saying. I didn’t know what I was doing. Only that I didn’t want to stay alone in this room after he left. It was so quiet and so cold and I was so alone. I’d grown accustomed to being alone and then Coen had crashed his way into my life and I didn’t want that anymore.

I didn’t want to be numb anymore. I wanted color and smiles and kisses and the sharp, sweet taste of life on my tongue. It was wrong and it was selfish, but I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d wanted something like this. Wanted it with every part of me.

I’d thought these parts of me had shut off like a switch and I’d been fine with it. Until him.

“Okay, I think we’re going to have to talk about what me staying over means, so there’s no confusion,” he said slowly, putting his hands out as if he was trying to steady me.

My mind was clear. I was decided. I brushed the fog from my mind and stared into the depths of green in his eyes.

“I want you to spend the night with me. Sleep. Just sleep. It’s been so long since I slept, Coen. So long.” It was selfish, but I didn’t care. My body was weary and I needed him to soothe me.

“Oh, Ingrid. I’d do anything for you. Anything. Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it for you.” He stroked my cheek and I leaned into his hand.

“Will you stay with me? Please?” He nodded and leaned forward to give me the briefest of kisses.

“Of course I will.”

I didn’t want him to leave, even to get clothes, and he didn’t seem to want to, so we agreed that we would both sleep in our clothes. I didn’t want him to be the only one that was uncomfortable, so I stifled his protests about me putting on pajamas.

He didn’t know that most of my pajamas were thin, worn and didn’t cover much. I also slept naked sometimes, but I definitely wasn’t going to tell him that.

He came with me to the bathroom so I could brush my teeth and wash my face. I held my toothbrush out to him. He made a face.

“What? Your tongue has been in my mouth.” He snorted.

“Good point, but I’m okay.” He put a glob of toothpaste on his finger and swabbed it all around his mouth, then called it good. I brushed out my hair and let him use my face wash.

“Do I smell like peaches now?” he asked, leaning his cheek toward me. I leaned forward and sniffed before giving him a little peck.

“Yeah, you do.”

Dorm beds were long and thin, and probably not meant to be shared, but we found a way. Coen put his back to the wall and I faced him. Our noses were mere inches apart and I kept fighting the urge to laugh.

“What?” he whispered.

“Nothing,” I whispered back. It didn’t seem right to talk in a normal volume.

“You’re smiling. It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful, Ingrid.” I hadn’t counted my smiles today. I had no idea how many there were. And for the first time since everything had happened, I didn’t care. This was one day, just one day, when I wasn’t going to care. I’d count tomorrow.

“I’m not tired,” I said.

“Me neither,” he said. The room was quiet without the sound of the television, which I was so used to by now. But the pounding of my heart and the sound of Coen’s breathing were enough noise. Too much, actually.

I moved my hand under my pillow and found my journal. I panicked for a moment and then shifted it so it was pushed further underneath. I didn’t think Coen was going to find it, but I should probably find another place for it if he was going to be here. I would just die if he saw anything written inside.

It didn’t matter that I posted my poems on Instagram for strangers to see. I would never meet someone who would know that I was the writer. But if Coen knew… No, that was unacceptable.

“This is weird. Being here with you like this.” I frowned.

“Not in a bad way,” he said hastily, “I just mean I never thought it would happen.”

“Me, neither.”

I felt like a creep staring at him, so I closed my eyes and snuggled closer, folding my hands together under my chin. His lips brushed my forehead and then he pressed his face to mine.

“Goodnight, Ingrid. Sleep well.”

“You too, Coen,” I said.

The next thing I knew, my eyes were opening and my vision was filled with green eyes and a chipped tooth and dark, wild hair.

“Hey,” he said with a smile.

“H-hey,” I said back, worried about my breath. We were still in the same position we fell asleep in, except for the fact that I’d thrown my outside leg over him, as if I was trying to climb him in my sleep.

“If we don’t get up soon, we’re going to be late,” he said.

“What?” I looked up and saw that soft morning light was spilling in through a crack in my curtains. I jolted upright and scrabbled for my phone. It was seven in the morning. I’d slept for eight hours straight.

Somehow.

“What’s wrong?” Coen didn’t understand what was going on in my head.

“Nothing, I just wanted to know what time it was.” My heart was going a mile a minute and if I wasn’t careful, I was going to have a panic attack. I dashed from the room and down the hall to the bathroom where I locked myself in a stall and tried to slow everything down.

Why was it freaking me out that I’d slept through the night? That should not be something that a person had a panic attack over. But other people weren’t me.

“Ingrid?” I heard the door to the bathroom slowly open. Technically this was the girls’ room, but not one really paid attention to the signs so it didn’t matter if he came in.

“I’m okay,” I said, my voice shivery and breathless. I definitely didn’t sound okay.

“Are you sure? You just… you seemed a little freaked out. If you want me to go that’s totally fine. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t want to talk or something.” Sweet. He was pure sweetness and kindness.

I didn’t deserve him.

“Really, Coen, I’m okay. I’m just going to take a shower and then go to class.”