Harvard Boy

Each answer?

He's charismatic, in the sense of how he laughs or holds himself. He's distant when it comes to friends, but even more remote when he's enthralled with a good book. His touch is always soft, so is his laugh. He makes me smile, and that makes me sad. Sometimes when he watches me, I wonder if he knows; other times I wonder if he ever will. I think I'm falling in love with him. I think karma is a bigger part of that. But I know the fire in his eyes will fade, once he sees me for who I truly am. -B

Victoria flipped through the pages, eyeing; scanning each syllable, each answer.

I told him I was pregnant today, right on the crossing from the boardwalk. If you could of seen the way his smile lit and pummeled through me, it'd break you too. I'd hoped he'd tell me no, or show some remorse. But he took it in like a breath of fresh air. He looked at me, and I knew, it was then, that I watched him make me his future. He was in love with me, I could see it clear as day. He told me that he 'could do this', that he 'shouldn't be this happy, but he didn't care.' It was then I made him my future too, but felt sick, when I didn't have the right.-B

She was so confused. What was Brooke hiding from him? The false pregnancy, Victoria knew. But why? If she loved him, why?

I slept with Paul again Tuesday. This time was worse than last. Still nothing. I feel nothing. I want Harry forever and always, but this secret is eating me up. The money, the pregnancy, the expectations. My father checks in once a week, asks if I'm still on track, almost as if this is all a game, a designated plan. I feel as if my insides are going to spontaneously combust, unless I say something, anything. I know I agreed to this, but it's burning now, my feelings have complicated things. Last night after Harry and I made love, he rubbed circles around my stomach, and whispered promises of forever. I cried when he fell asleep. -B

Her nimble fingers grazed over the letters. Feeling the pain; the evasive betrayal; the lies; the love.

She kept reading, gazing, sometimes wiping away tears.

Multiple pages had been ripped out, the jagged edges of residue were proof.

Victoria assumes those were the most pertinent paragraphs. She assumes Harry has them now.

At one point she had to put down the journal, to take a breather.

This wasn't an explanation, but it wasn't a silent reply either.

She had no answers, and now she has the building blocks to multiple.

It was dizzying by how personal this was all becoming. How distracting and scarring.

After minutes passed, she exhaled, and decided on reading one more, before trying to fight herself to sleep.

I think Sam knows. I see him sometimes, walking, lurking. The way he looks at me, it's as if he can see right through every smile- every hand I wave. It scares me. He scares me. Last week I ran into him, and he told me 'to watch my back.' Normally I would just tell Harry, and he'd take care of it. But I got the vibe that it wasn't an empty threat. That he knew exactly the same thing I did. Harry's parents promised everything would stay between the few of us. I'm now starting to think Sam is apart of that few. -B

(Happy late thanksgiving! Hope everyone's stuffed and happy! Love you all, thanks for reading!)