Retrocognition

56 | distraction

I meet Zach in the library the next morning, as it's the last place I'd ever expect Jacob to show up—plus, it's become sort of a safe haven for me. I wander through the maze of bookshelves that line the large room, making my way to the back of the building.

Zach is already waiting for me, sitting patiently at an empty table in the back corner of the vacant area. My stomach flutters as I catch sight of him, unable to stop myself from thinking back to the night before.

I should regret it—what we did last night. Yet I don't, which I find somewhat strange. I've never rushed into anything the way I did with Zach last night—I'm always one to take my time with things, never one to make mistakes. But the relationship I have created with Zach feels different from the other relationships I've built throughout my lifetime in a way I can't quite explain. I don't feel as if I made a mistake I regret when it comes to what the two of us did, nor do I feel like the shift in my relationship with Zach was rushed. Something about being around him makes me feel safe, as if I am free to be myself. He's easy to talk to, and has been there for me throughout all of the craziness I have dragged him through. With him, I am comfortable.

I'm unsure of what to make of this.

I approach where Zach is seated, clearing my throat to make him aware of my presence. Zach glances up and meets my gaze, those piercing green eyes of his staring right through mine and leaving me feeling as if I am an open book he can easily read. He watches as I take a seat at the table across from him, resting my bookbag on the ground by my feet before straightening and giving the boy before me my full attention.

Meeting his stare, flashbacks from the night before play out through my mind. I recall his hands and lips all over my body, my breath heaving as I gripped my bed sheets, the way we had moved together in the darkness.

"Hey," Zach greets, eyeing me cautiously. I can sense that something in his demeanor is off. I wonder what he makes of what we did—I wonder if he regrets it in all of the ways that I don't.

"Hi," I say in return, offering a faint smile. "I need to ask you a favor."

Zach crosses his arms over his chest as he leans back in his seat, the muscles in his forearms rippling with the movement. He smirks as he says, "I'm not even surprised at this point."

I roll my eyes, biting back a smile of my own. It's absolutely ridiculous the way he makes me feel—especially with everything we have going on. Yet somehow Zachary d'Angelo manages to take away all of the darkness my life currently holds, shining a little light through my broken pieces. I'd never admit it aloud, but I'm secretly grateful to him for this.

"I'm going to see Jacob tonight," I admit, "and I need to go alone."

Zach's entire attitude changes. He stiffens, expression pinching as he eyes me cautiously. "Blythe—" he starts to speak, though I don't let him finish.

"I'm going to hang out with him in his dorm. It's not like you can exactly be there with me."

"I can wait outside the door," Zach points out, raising an eyebrow as he stares me down. He's upset, that much I can tell. It's heartwarming that he is so concerned for me, but I don't have time to linger on the way this makes me feel.

"I need you to trust me on this," I tell him. "You can meet me in my dorm after. Kehlani has a night class. I'll be fine."

"I don't like this idea." Zach shakes his head, pursing his lips as he runs a hand through his dark hair.

"It'll be over soon," I murmur. "I promise."

Zach nods, though his jaw is clenched tightly—a sign of discomfort. He glances at me from across the table, and suddenly I know we won't be talking about Jacob anymore. There are other things on his mind, that much is clear.

"Are we going to talk about it?" Zach questions in a low tone, as if he thinks he's doing something wrong by switching to this topic. "Last night?"

"What do you want to talk about?" I keep my tone neutral and manner casual, careful so as not to give away how I feel about the events that conspired between the two of us last night. I set my elbow atop the table, resting my chin on my hand as I watch Zach struggle to come up with something to say.

"I feel like I should apologize," he admits sheepishly, hardly able to look me in the eye. "Things went too far too fast. I don't want you to think that I . . . I shouldn't have gone through with that. I'm sorry."

"I'm not," I deadpan truthfully, shrugging.

Zach raises his eyebrows as he cuts his gaze over to me, surprise written all over his features. He opens his mouth to speak, though quickly thinks better of doing so. He shakes his head dumbfoundedly before asking, "You're not?"

"No," I admit shamelessly, tone matter-of-fact. "I don't regret it. I wanted it to happen."

"I don't want you to think of me as some sort of . . . distraction," Zach says after a moment. I can tell that it's hard for him to be so vulnerable, as his cheeks have tinged a light shade of pink. "I don't want to do anything that might mess this up."

I find this revelation to be somewhat endearing. It's cute, seeing him so flustered, as well as hearing him apologize when he did nothing wrong. I don't know what Zach and I are—there are no titles that could possibly define the dynamic between us. The line between friends and something more has officially been blurred, leaving me clueless as to what our relationship may be. Yet it's evident Zach cares about me; he's more than proved that much in the time we've spent together. And I care about him too, in more ways than one. Being with him feels simple, despite how complicated things in my life have become. I may not know what the two of us are—or what we may become—but I do know that I don't want to lose him.

"You're not a distraction to me, Zach," I assure him softly. I'm not much one for expressing my emotions, though I want to make it clear that I'm not using him as some sort of gateway drug to escape my dreadful reality. "Do you regret it? Everything else aside?"

Zach's expression is thoughtful for a moment. "No," he confesses. "Not at all."

"Why me?" I ask after a beat of silence, my voice barely above a whisper. "You hardly know me."

"I didn't mean for it to happen," Zach admits, acknowledging the recent shift in our strange friendship. "I don't know, Blythe. I just know you're someone I don't want to risk losing."

Peering over at Zach from across the table, a sort of understanding seems to pass between us. We've formed some sort of connection I can't explain—one I couldn't describe even if I tried. And yet I know that I won't be seeing the last of him any time soon. Maybe one day—after all of this is over—he and I will manage to make this work.

And I'll most definitely be looking forward to that day.