Remember This Part

13. Thea Makes a Home Visit

Thea.

I keep ending up in the passenger seat of Alex's car, and it's getting to the point that I think I should put a nameplate on it. Something that says, Thea "Cal" Sommer Sits Here Sometimes.

But before I can suggest this to Alex, we're already pulling into the driveway of a four-story apartment complex. It's downtown, in a neighborhood that I visited once last year at the beginning of my first semester. Nika and I went to a party somewhere around here, which—in hindsight—was an incredibly stupid decision. We were too naive to take the right kind of precautions. I thank God often for the fact that nothing bad happened to either of us on that little outing. This neighborhood doesn't exactly have a good reputation.

That's probably why Alex does a careful sweep of our surroundings before exiting the car. By the time I unbuckle, he's already at my door and ready to escort me in. Despite the immediate impression given by his intimidating presence, he's quite the gentleman. It makes sense, though. I have a feeling Imelda is the type of woman who ensures her grandsons mind their manners.

Alex guides me to the right staircase and then waits for me to go first, sticking close behind me as we climb the narrow steps. Just that small act sets something off in my chest. It's warm and comforting, but it also aches painfully. Maybe because I feel like I've been missing out on something my whole life, or maybe because I'm scared that this whole pleasant experience will be short-lived. Whether it's by Alex or someone else, I'm afraid I'm gonna be disappointed, and it'll be my fault for expecting such unrealistic things.

Does everyone think this way? Or am I just royally screwed up? Then again, I guess it doesn't have to be mutually exclusive. Maybe everyone's just royally screwed up (no offense).

Alex's arm brushes my own as he goes to unlock the door from behind me, his chest level with my head. I literally have to fight the urge to lean back into him, because it suddenly seems so appealing. I know he's warm—I can feel the heat emanating off him. What would it be like to have my cheek resting against him, one of his arms settled around me?

I'm sure it would be lovely, but I'm not at liberty to indulge in those kinds of thoughts.

I can admit that I have a crush on him, which isn't a big deal. Crushes come and go. The thing is, this time it's kind of scary. Since I've been at Bryce-Meyers, I haven't really been afraid to take the first step and ask someone out. I've trained myself to believe that getting rejected isn't a big deal, and it's easy enough to move on.

But the idea of getting rejected by Alex is oddly unnerving. I mean, I enjoy myself when I'm with him. And he's starting to make me feel something that I've longed for since I was a kid—safe. I don't have to worry about losing my liver when I'm with him. He won't take it, and I feel like he wouldn't let anyone else take it, either.

If I asked him out and he said no, I think I would actually be devastated. What if I make him uncomfortable, and he doesn't want to spend time with me anymore?

Why is he so hard to read? Other guys usually give off some fairly obvious signals when they're interested. But with him, I find myself doubting every usual green light, worried that maybe they're more yellow than green. 

I try not to think too hard about it and focus my attention on the door as he pushes it open. Alex ushers me inside a wide open space, with a kitchen to the right and a living room to the left. I'm immediately surprised by how neat and tidy it is. For some reason, I expected it to look like the inside of a biker bar. Instead, I find everything in order. There's not a lot of furniture. A leather couch sits next to a dark red recliner, situated so that they corner a wide TV screen. Matching gray curtains hang from all the windows, coordinated with the black and gray rug on the floor.