I Hope This Doesn't Find You

For ten years I thought I was preparing to destroy you, when really I was preparing to love you.

What I’m realizing is that if you’re quiet about the things that hurt you, people are only going to mistake your tolerance for permission. And they’re going to hurt you again and again.

“You’re the only person worth paying attention to.”

I’m not planning on being particularly nice,” he whispers. “And I don’t expect you to be either.”

“But—”

“It’s us, Sadie,” he says, like that’s answer enough. “When have we been bad at anything?”

For once I have all the power, and I’d be a fool to let it go without putting up a good fight—no matter how badly I want him to just kiss me

He takes it off, then holds it out toward me.

“Yours.”

I’d thought he was joking. “You . . . But you won it. You should keep it.”

He rolls his eyes. “I have so many of these lying around my house I don’t have any room left.”

“Okay, you’re just openly bragging now—”

“Only speaking the truth.”

“I—”

“Just take it, Sadie.” He closes the distance between us and hangs the medal around my neck. It’s still warm from his touch, smooth against my skin when I turn it over, unable to stop myself from admiring its faint glow, the shine of the gold. The weight of it. It’s prettier than any necklace I’ve ever seen. I open my mouth to thank him, but then he adds, carelessly, “Consider it compensation for all the awards I’ve taken from you.”

My gratitude curdles into a scoff on my tongue, and he laughs at the look on my face.

“You’re welcome,” he says.

“For being cocky?”

“That too.”

But I brush my thumb over the medal, and even though I can’t decide what it really means—a gift, a form of compensation, proof of something—it’s somehow one of the best things I’ve ever received.

Because,” he says quietly, a curious expression on his face. I’ve never seen him so serious. So sincere. “You’re the only person worth paying attention to.”

Why would I be jealous?” he demands with a sneer, distaste written all over his face. “I would rather die than kiss you again.”

Forget it,” I mumble. “You won’t understand.”

“I’m trying to.”

Sadie. I don’t care whose party this is; I simply didn’t have anywhere better to go,” he says, his voice bored.

“How sad. You’re not wanted in your own home? You have to come bother me in mine?”

He flinches, then rights himself again with cool poise. The twist of his mouth turns cruel. “Well, if I can make your night a little worse, why not? I’ll at least have accomplished something here.”