I Try

Chapter 14 - The Visitor

Beth’s Point of View

I jogged behind Bryan for a good three minutes, well away from the mob of bloodthirsty college students, until I came to my senses and stopped. He was about two feet ahead and didn’t notice my lag until I cleared my throat.

“What are you doing?” He asked, turning around with his breath coming in pants. 

I clenched my nightgown that I was still wearing in my fists. “Bryan, what was that? Why did you just pummel Ricky? Yeah, I know that he harassed me and put it on the Internet but is that really a good reason to risk your safety, not to mention your education?” I say. 

He looked distraught and at a loss for words. “Beth...”

“No, Bryan, I’m sick of this. I got here by keeping secrets,” I pointed to my tummy. “And I’m not going to do it again. I’ll go back to Texas before that happens.”

His eyes were pleading and he stepped closer, releasing a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry,” he reached for my hand but I shook my head and backed up. His expression sliced me into pieces but I stood my ground. “Come on, I’ll explain when we get back, let’s just go.”

I bite the inside of my cheek but nod and cut around him. I don’t know if I actually do want to know, I feel like this is opening a can of worms that will inevitably tumble me down a black hole, further than I already am. Bryan is perfect how he is: my friend. Do I have to complicate it by learning more than I need to?

When we reach the apartment I walk in ahead and stick my key in the lock, flinging it open. When I step inside I realize I lost Marley way back there, however I can’t bring myself to care so much. I sit on the edge of the love seat, which leaves the couch for Bryan, and gesture to him. 

“Okay,” I say. “Explain.”

He eyes me in a way I don’t have a decoder for and hesitantly sits on the couch, propping his elbows on his knees. “I don’t know where to begin, exactly.”

“How about the beginning?” I suggest. I know that I’m being harsh but I can’t seem to help it, I am so furious it’s insane. He fidgets with his hands and my mind notices how cute it is when he tucks his bottom lip between his teeth. 

Stop it, Beth. What are you doing?

When Bryan opens his mouth again, a different voice comes out and I feel my body sink into the seat. 

“I’m not American.” He says, and the affliction in his words tells me exactly what he is. No. 

“No.” I exhale. 

“I’m from Brighton, England.” Bryan states, and I feel like I can see the person I thought I knew disappearing before my eyes. “I moved here after my senior year of high school. My mum and dad wanted me to attend university in the States, where I could become what I wanted and get out of the UK for a while.