Seph

"You don't think I'm disgusting?" I ask Kian, my voice quiet and my head against his chest.

  "Seph, I think you're amazing, and beautiful." His arms tighten around me. "We all have flaws."

  "What are yours?" I want to know. I'm talking into his chest.

 "Besides drug dealing?"

 I pull back and look up at him. "Yeah."

 He considers this for a second. "I'm really bad at math."

 "Not sure if that's the same as mine."

 He laughs a bit and I step back. "I guess you're right."

  I look at him for a minute and really think this all through. We're very different. But he knows me at my worst and he's not running away. This guy I met a week ago knows more about me than most people. He hugged me when needed it.  So I turn and go back to the open truck door and hop back in. He doesn't immediately follow me and I can't help but wonder if he's considering his next move, too. When he does come back to the truck, he's quiet. Once he's beside me again, he looks over. I'm looking straight ahead.

  "Is that why you said you're already dying?" he asks, calmly. as he puts the truck into drive.

  I'm confused. "What?"

  "The night we met. I told you that smoking will kill you. It was a joke. But you said I'm already dying."

  He remembered that? Even I forgot I said that to him that night.

  "Yeah. I guess." I glance out the window. Everything is so dark as he gets back on the road to bring me home.

  "Seph... I want to help you."

  My hands need something to do so I pick up the water bottle and take a big sip. He keeps driving, but glances at me because I ignore him. I don't know what to say to that. I need help. I need him. But I am in no place to admit that.

  "Seph."

   "You can't help me," I snap. I don't know why I'm snapping at him. We just had a really nice moment leaning against his truck in the parking lot of that fast food place.

  "Why not?" he wants to know.

  I take in a deep breath. "I don't know how to stop. It's been three years of this and it feels like I'll never be normal."

 "Can I help by being someone you can call if you need to talk?" he wants to know.

  I know he's just trying to help but it's annoying me for some reason. My parents think that if I just eat or just stop binging and purging, I'll be fine. It doesn't work like that. My brain and my body don't know how to not do this.

  "Yeah. Maybe," I say anyway.

 "Can I help by... caring about you? And wanting you to be healthy?" he wants to know.

 "I don't know how that helps."

  He winces at that and I know it was stupid to say, but I'm sick of people thinking I can just stop doing this because someone wants me to. I have an illness.  An addiction. I need more than someone caring about me to help me get better.

 "How long have you smoked?" I ask, because I want to try to explain this to him.

 "Like four years."

 "And it's addiction, right?  You crave it? You feel better when you get that first inhale?"

 Kian looks annoyed for a second and then nods.

  "I smoke because I love it. I like how it makes me feel. But I avoid food because I'm addicted to looking a certain way. When I was a gymnast, I liked how I looked and felt. But after I broke my foot I was stuck in the hospital and in bed and I gained weight. I lost that feeling that I had been so attached to. That's when I started to eat less. And what I did eat, I... got rid of it."

   "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to tell you that it's something that should be easy to stop."

  I nod but I don't say anything else.

  We're back in front of my house ten minutes later and the truck is filled with awkward silence. We were only gone for an hour but we learned a lot about each other. I understand why he said my that parents wouldn't approve of us. He's a drug dealer, for God's sake. I shouldn't want to spend time with him. But I do. He's not judging me like everyone else does. I'm sure as hell not judging him. We need each other. I can feel it in my gut.

   "I have a lot going on in my life right now, but I have been thinking about you so much. I just... I don't feel like I can move on from this." He says this in a whisper, and his eyes are avoiding mine.

  "What do you mean by that?" I ask him. Then I look at the house. It's totally dark except the front light by the porch.

  He shakes his head and swallows hard. He doesn't want to explain what he meant by what he said. "I really want to kiss you again."

  I don't know why I kissed him on Monday in my backyard. I wasn't thinking. I just wanted to do something for me. Something that might make me feel good.  And it did, in the moment.

 "I think you're right about my parents not approving of you," I say and I see the look of guilt wash over his face.

 He doesn't know what to say.

 "But I don't care about what they think," I go on, and then give him the tiniest smile.

  "Really?"

 I shrug and then unbuckle the seat belt. He's watching me carefully. When I lean over and press my forehead again his shoulder, he releases a sigh. I want to kiss him again. I want to do a hell of a lot more than that. And I want to run away with him and never look back. But I've known him for less than a week. I'm not crazy. So I look up and smile and he gives me an forced one back.

"You can kiss me."

  He doesn't hesitate. His hands come up to my face and I scoot closer to him. When our months connect, it feels like I'm home. That house out there is not where I feel safe or wanted. It's here, in this truck with Kian. And that terrifies me. But it makes my heart beat really fast. I've been stuck for years. I didn't have any escape or a way to change my life. But now I do. I have him.

  When he pulls away, his eyes are on mine. They stay there and he doesn't even blink. I wish I could read his mind. He looks so confused.

  "This is going to be so hard," he finally says.

  "What?"

 "I'm a realist, Seph. I don't even have a home and you live here. How will we -"

 I reach up and run my fingers down the side of his face. He shivers. "We have your truck."

 This makes him smile but I can see he's still hesitant. "I'll call you soon."

 "Yeah?" I ask. "Are you sure?"

  "I'm sure."

 I kiss his cheek and then throw open the door and hop out. He watches me and I turn and walk towards the house.

*   

Mornings are always tough for me. Always.

  I want to want to go downstairs and say good morning to my parents and have a coffee and some breakfast with them. I want that to be something I could do. But it's not. My morning is spending as much time as possible in my room, alone. I usually wait until I know they are gone to the office before I head downstairs.

  The next morning, though, I go down because I want to see Ronalda. I need some cigarettes and I like seeing her smiling face. It's Friday. I hate Fridays.

  But Ronalda isn't the one I see in the front hall as I walk down the stairs. Even though it's early, I thought my mom would be gone by now.

  I was wrong. She eyes me for a minute before turning fully towards me. One thing that worries me is that I never know what's going to come out of her month.

 "Where were you last night?"

 Oh. She heard me leave. That's not good.

 "You care that I went out last night?" I ask, instead of answering.

  "It was almost midnight. I woke up when I heard you in the hallway."

 "I didn't meant to wake you."

  "Where did you go, Jo?" she asks again.

 "Now you care?"

   "I always care. Everything you do worries me," she says and I see it in her eyes that she means that.

 "That's harsh,"  I say quickly, as if it doesn't bother me.

  "I need you to not be so difficult." The words come right out, as if she's been wanting to say that to me for a long time.

 "I need you to not be so mean, and controlling," I snap back.

  "That boy is not worth your time, Jo. He's trouble. Frank has told us about him." She's slipping on her heels. She's not even looking at me.

 "That's great. You don't really know him," I say and then realize I just outed myself. "You didn't know that I left the party. My party. I left with him for like two hours. You didn't even notice."

  I see the shock on her face, but then she washes it away. "I knew."

  "Sure."

  I turn to leave the room. I can't be near her anymore. We used to get along so well. I loved when she picked me up from school and we would talk about my day on the way to gymnastics. She always brought me a smoothie or some veggies and I'd eat while I talked. She paid attention to me, then. She wasn't perfect but she was there.

 "You could have picked any boy. You could have friends, Jo, why would you pick this boy?"

  "I didn't pick him. It just happened," I tell her, even though I want to be done this conversation so badly.

 "He's not worth the trouble. I'm asking you to end whatever it is you're doing now," she says. Now she's looking at me again.

  "You can't control me."

  She shoots me a look of daggers, her nostrils flaring. "You live in our house. Your dad would be very upset to find out you snuck out last night to be with him."

 "Why does he hate him? What did Kian do?" I ask, although I don't expect her to have an answer.

  I don't know I want to know the answer, if she does.

 "He didn't tell you?" Now my mother looks sorry for me.

 I wait.

 "Frank had to bail him out of jail less than a year ago. He paid the bail and that boy is working to pay it off. Jail, Jo."

 Jail. Kian was in jail? Why wouldn't he have told me that? That's why he owes Frank money?

  I turn away again. My mom doesn't follow, thankfully. She's on her way to work. She can just walk away after telling me that. She doesn't even consider my feelings anymore. It's like I don't even have any.