Under the Bridge

chapter sixty-"not by a long shot"

I FEEL LIKE I AM NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE, like I am a burden to Liam, to his family, who for some reason, were perfectly okay with me being over here. Liam's sisters have been a sleep for awhile, so the morning is going to be unnecessarily awkward. 

We're in his room, which Brian might have been opposed to, had it not been the tears in my eyes and the shake in my voice. He's given me sweatpants and a long sleeve shirt, which both swallow me whole. I tuck the front of the shirt into the bottoms and walk over to Liam's bed, sitting on the edge but not going under the covers. 

I feel numb now, like every emotion I have has been washed away and won't come back. Liam comes out of the shower, with blow-dried hair that's messy on his head and a pair of grey sweatpants. Normally, I'd at least blush at the sight of him shirtless, but at this point, I feel indifferent to it all.

"You okay?" He asks, setting a hand on my knee and sitting beside me on the comforter. 

I shrug. "Numb." 

He nods, standing back up to find a spot on the opposite side of the bed. I follow his lead and take mine, slipping under the covers and laying beside him. He turns off the lamp on the bedside table, making it dark down here, so that it's just us in his house. 

"Goodnight," Liam whispers. 

"Wait," I protest, the words coming out as a soft breath. "Come here, please." 

Liam shuffles on the other side, scooting in my direction until an arm is slung over my waist and pulling me close. I melt into him, feeling warm skin, enough to level my breathing and remind me who I'm with and what he means to me. I can smell the lemongrass and the musk, the familiar cedar wood soap that fills the air between us. 

"Goodnight, Liam," I whisper.

"Goodnight, Olivia. I love you."

"I love you too." 

* * * 

Waking up with Liam would normally be a dream. Now, with the loud sound of the alarm on his phone and the lethargy in both of us, it's like a nightmare. The ringing is incessant, refusing to stop until my boyfriend groans, taking his arms off of me and finding the phone, returning us to silence. 

He rolls onto his back and pulls on the blanket, which just takes it from my side and makes me shiver in the cold air of his bedroom. A yawn escapes my lips, and I set a hand on his warm chest, prompting him to wake up. 

Liam grumbles, shuffling under the covers and sinking back into the bed. 

"Liam, babe, wake up," I whisper. 

His eyes open and he reluctantly crawls out of bed, stretching his arms over his head so his back muscles flex in front of me. I stare, though not out of lust or attraction, as I normally would, but fascination. He moves in such a beautiful way, as though he is a machine assembled perfectly with every part engineered to look how they do. 

He turns around, running his fingers through his already messed up hair and meeting my eyes. "Last night, while you were in the shower, I put your stuff in the wash, I hope that's okay," Liam says, his voice low and gravely, still not awake. 

I press my lips into a smile. "Thanks, Liam." 

"You can wear something you of mine if you don't want to wear the same thing two days in a row," he says with a yawn, taking my hand and helping pull me out of bed. I find my feet and smile shyly, though Liam seems to notice that the expression isn't real. "You feeling better?" He asks, setting his hands on my waist. 

I shrug. "I don't know, still kind of numb, I guess," I murmur, finding his stubble-covered cheek and setting my hand there. "Thank you, for everything." 

I step up on my toes and brush a light kiss against his lips, letting it linger for a brief moment. "I love you," he whispers, "are you up for school? You don't have to go if you're not feeling okay." 

I nod. "I can't miss AP Chem," I say after a moment, my hands finding his shoulders, my eyes sinking to the floor. 

Liam's arms wrap around me, pulling me closer. "Are you sure? You'll do worse if you're not feeling well." 

"If I screw up my attendance..." 

"We're seniors, Olivia, if you have over 75% attendance you're in the majority." 

He's right. I know I'll have a panic attack if I go to school. I know I'll have a horrible day and tank a quiz or two. I rest my head against his chest and feel an embrace wrap around me, lips brushing against the side of my head. "I'll hang out with you, we can go for a drive or something." 

"You don't have to miss if you don't want to..." 

"I'm not leaving you to stew in sadness. Besides, I only show up at school to hang out with you anyway." 

My lips pull up into a small smile, the first real one in a little while. "You sure?" 

"Positive." 

* * * 

 I've always wondered if there are infinite varieties of things. Some, like rain, vary from perspective to perspective. Sometimes, storms feel invigorating, like a creative stimuli that calls for splashing in puddles and making music with the resulting sounds. Other times, the rain is melancholic, a lullaby into dreariness and neutral expressions. The same storm can be refreshing and alive to me, but dead and dark to you.

I thought I had felt everything, that every kind of mania and insomnia and anxiety had crossed my palate, and that I could withstand it all. It's different now. There is no anchor, no single actor to feel every single one of these emotions. I am not the girl I was before I found out about Eric. I might not even be the girl I was twenty minutes ago.

This girl I was before I met my father might have been afraid to ditch school and explore the city with Liam. The girl I am now thinks talking to Hope might fill her with mortification, like she has to explain her actions will make her throw up. The girl I am now hasn't said a word in an hour.

The sky is muggy and the roads are covered in that post-snow slosh than makes everyone drive a little more cautiously. Liam's going five below the speed limit, not looking my way unless we're at a red light.

The empty intersection leaves us at a red, bringing his eyes back to mine for a brief moment. "You didn't touch your breakfast," he comments.

I half-shrug. "I wasn't hungry." My voice comes out as a croak from underuse. It makes me cringe.

Liam sets a hand on my knee, thumb brushing back and forth, breath coming out as a sigh. "We can go somewhere, if that makes you more comfortable. I know my mother and Brian can be intense."

I bite the inside of my cheek. I know I should eat something, but the thought makes me nauseous. Everything makes me nauseous. "Green," I whisper, seeing the light as my escape.

Liam retains focus and takes his foot off the brake. "Sorry."

He looks like he's trying. Too hard. Too much. Liam shouldn't be doing any of this for me. He should be at school, or with his friends, or doing something he actually likes. I feel guilty. He shouldn't be saying sorry at all. I should be the one apologizing.

His body is tight, tense, worried about anything and everything. "You don't have to do any of this, Liam," I insist, sinking back in the seat and watching his eyes follow the road.

"I like driving and I hate school. Taking you in the morning is the only reason I show up anyway. If anything, you're doing me a favor," he says, though I don't believe a word of it. "I think we should get brunch, all you had was half a cup of coffee." 

I don't reply, instead focusing my eyes on the winding road through the window. Liam is right, I'll let him take me wherever he wants, but I won't stop feeling guilty about it. Not by a long shot.