What She Said

Chapter Two

Skin on skin. Hands in hair. Lips on lips. We are both chessboards, each of us making moves in wild, unorchestrated manners. He is moving his pawn, fingers just skirting my jawline. I move my queen, lips down his neck. We are playing a game, but neither of us know who wins.

Neither of us know who loses.

"Cleo, you slut." My subconscious is sneering at me. I am no stranger to that ugly word. Every girl gets used to it. It just stings a bit more to hear it from yourself.

I push him away.

"Collin, stop." He pauses immediately, his hands trailing down the back of my neck in confusion.

"What's wrong?" He knits his eyebrows, causing a shadow of a crease just above the center of his eyes.

"I don't...I never...I don't move this fast." I am still out of breath from our chess match.

"We've known each other for more than a week. We aren't going that fast."

"Maybe for you, but not for me."

Collin rolls onto his back. I adjust my shirt and bra before falling flat on the floor.

"You had cancer, didn't you."

My heart drops in my chest. Is it that obvious? Will my Alveolar Rhabdysarcoma stick to me like a badge for the rest of my life?

"How do you know?" I can feel him looking at me. He wants me to meet his gaze, but I do not. Correction: I don't think I can.

"My sister looked the exact same way you do after she was diagnosed. The eyes that see too far. The anger in the jawline. Your hair is fine. The roots don't lay flat on your scalp. You're pale, even for the beginning of summer. She was the same. But I suspect that you are not entirely cured, which means you're either crazy or extremely pessimistic. Personally, I'd like to figure out which one."

"I'm not so much pessimistic as I am cynical."

"So...what. You're just going to spend your days wandering around Charlotte's Landing and making out with guys you 'just met' until you keel over somewhere and die?"

I don't like it when he says it that way. It sounds harsh; selfish even. But that was the plan. Either find something to live for, or die.

"Honestly, I don't know what else to do."

"How old are you?"

Huh? Collin's questions are starting to give me whiplash and a nasty feeling in my stomach that my life was about to be pried open and dissected.

"I'm eighteen."

"So you didn't run away, but I'm guessing this was not a mutual agreement when it came to your parents."

"They know I'm here with Red, they just didn't have a say in whether I came or not."

"You know, you're turning out to be much more complicated than I dubbed you for."

"You have no idea."

"So give me one."

"I don't follow."

"Give me an idea. Tell me how complicated and outrageous your life is. Let go of whatever is holding you back. I like you. I don't care what kind of baggage you have. Just don't give me any of that 'you can't love me cus you'll either hurt me or I'll hurt you' crap. You have no say in whether or not I fall in love with you, and frankly, love doesn't give a damn about whether you are gonna be dead in a week or in years. So neither will I."

"I had a boyfriend-"

"Oh, what. You aren't over him? You're currently cheating on him? He's in rehab? Whatever it is, I can take it."

"He's dead."