In Riptides

09 | lifeline

L I A

I begged my mom to let me stay home from school today.

"You can't avoid him forever, farfallina," she said. "Dealing with ex-boyfriends is a part of life, and life stops for no one."

I've never known it more.

It just keeps going, moving around me in circles; people laughing and talking, sauntering to class, paging through books, scrolling on phones, catching up with friends. It all makes me motion sick. How can they not sense that the world has broken in half? How can they not feel the shifted ground like I do? Everything is so slanted, a cluster of unbalanced paths going every which way but straight.

"Lee," he calls behind me and I freeze, finding my balance. "What's your first class?"

I look at my planted feet. "Chemistry."

He takes my hand, unplanting them. "I'll walk you."

I stumble along, my breath catching, a twinge of pain shooting up my arm from his fingers interlocking with mine. He loves you, he would never hurt you on purpose.

He doesn't say a word to me as we walk. Just nods and smiles at people greeting us. Just exuding charm. Just being Matty Benson.

And then- "Why were you talking to him?" he asks, calm as ever.

The ground gives a humming vibration, slanting, slanting. "He was talking to me."

We round the corner to Mr. Clarke's classroom, and I start to loosen my fingers, but he doesn't let go.

"Remember what we agreed on before New York?" he says, drawing me to the side of the door as my class gradually files in. "That you wouldn't hang out with him anymore? It still applies, Lia. Every problem we've ever had stems from Nate Miller breaking boundaries and interfering with us. I'm not letting him pull that shit again, all right? If he tries to talk to you, walk the fuck away."

My temples pound and I drop my chin, wishing I could just disintegrate into a pile of blood and bone and escape this body. He loves you, he would never hurt you on purpose.

Matt releases my hand, stroking strands behind my ears before he lifts my face to him. "If he tries to talk to you..." he repeats, drawing out the last word.

"I'll walk away."

His lips curve into a shining crescent moon. "Good girl." And then he's leaning in and the blood pounds so hard in my head that blooming white spots take over my vision, blocking off my senses one by one as he kisses me.

"Whoa there, lovebirds, let's cool it," Mr. Clarke's voice punctures the white, and Matt pulls away. "You haven't transferred to my class this semester, have you Matt?"

"No, sir."

"Then I suggest you get to your own," he chimes, gesturing down the hall.

Matt reluctantly complies, giving me a wink as he goes.

"I don't think I have to tell you that there's a time and a place for PDA," Mr. Clarke says, giving me a scolding look. It's light, though. Mr. Clarke is always light and fun and the only teacher in this place who cuts students' slack. I think he's still too young to be jaded by the job like the rest of them.

"Sorry, really, that won't happen again," I say, my vision now clear. Head still pounding. Ground still slanted.

He stops me at the door. "Oh, I wanted to thank you again for making those cookies. To be perfectly frank, you really saved my backside that day."