Only for me | Draco Malfoy

26.

Eventually, embarrassment began to seep through me.

I was in tears. In the arms of Draco. I was crying on Draco, judging by the damp spot on his shirt.

Draco must have felt my stiffness in his arms because he made the first movement he had made in a long time. His head twisted, and his jaw rested on top of my head. He almost seemed to be looking down at me, but I didn't want him to see me. Instead, I looked down at my feet.

"Angeline?" His voice was delicate and soft.

He spoke to me as if I were a cloud of mist that could disperse and fade into the air at any moment.

I untied my fingers from his shirt, letting go and leaning against the wall as much as I could. Trying to put an inch of distance between us.

"Yeah." I responded, but it was so quietly that I'm surprised he didn't hear it.

"Everything will be fine." Draco told me as he took a step back.

I couldn't tell if he was lying to me or if he was stupid enough to have that hope.

"Sorry." I couldn't bear looking at him.

He must believe I'm insane. He has to realise how broken I am.

"Hey." Draco said, gently grabbing my chin and pointing my face towards him, as if he knew what I was up to.

"Hey." He said it again when I didn't meet his gaze.

I slowly raised my gaze to his face. He wasn't looking at me in the way I expected him to: with pity or disgust. He was looking at me as if he cared. I was curious if he really did.

"Angeline, you don't have to apologise. It's okay to be unhappy." As my gaze met Draco's, he said.

How did I explain to him that I wasn't just not okay?

I had lost myself.

"I said to you I'd be there for you." Draco went on.

"You aren't ready to talk. I should not have pushed you."

"You should not have done so. You, too, should not have read that letter." I informed him.

"I know. I shouldn't have done it. Please accept my apologies." Draco responded.

He appeared honest. I'd like to believe him.

I lowered my gaze once more, folding my arms across my chest. How can I be perfectly happy, high, and watching Spanish sitcoms one minute and crying to a boy I barely know the next?

Draco believes he recognises me, but how can he? Why would he want to do that?

"Have you eaten?" Draco asked, startling me out of my daydream.

He raised an eyebrow as I nodded. It annoyed me that Draco could tell when I was lying. But it also felt good. I'd become so accustomed to lying. I lied mindlessly, like I breathed. Before Draco, no one had ever known any better.

"Skittles do not count." Draco said, his gaze drawn to the open packet on the couch.

"And why not?" Food was just food.

Draco chuckled quietly as he approached the dispose bag of takeout on the coffee table.

"Do you mind if I heat this up for you?"

"What is it?" I questioned of him.

"Soup." I didn't like soup, and there was only one type I would eat.

"French onion soup."

"How did you find out?" I questioned of him.

I'm starting to suspect Draco was a mind reader.