Between Here and Forever - Elizabeth Scott [9]
“Your eyes—do you wear contacts?” he says.
I freeze, my whole body going numb.
“No,” I say. If he says I have pretty eyes, I will—I don’t know. I just know I won’t cry. Jack said my eyes were pretty once, and I was stupid enough to believe him.
But this guy doesn’t say that. He just says, “Do you want anything else?” so polite, so perfect, and I admit that for a second, one stupid second, I want to jump over the counter and lick his neck and touch his shoulders and his hair and pretend I could make a guy like him go weak in the knees.
“Yes,” I say, squashing that second, that stupid twinge of want, down. “I want you to wake up my sister.”
nine
Eli stares at me as if I’ve just said, “Hi, I’m crazy.”
“But your sister, she’s—”
“She’s in a coma,” I say. “But her eyes moved when you talked. She can hear you. So if you, you know, visit her, she’ll wake up. And when she does, you’ll love her. Everyone does.”
“So you want me to … what?”
“I just need—I want you to talk to her,” I say. “When her eyes moved, it was—” I take a deep breath. “It’s the most she’s done in ages.”
“Are you going to be there?”
“What?”
“If I talk to her, are you going to be there?”
Oh, I get it.
“No,” I say, and point at the case where bouquets of gently wilting plants are kept. “I’ll order her some flowers or something, and when you bring them up I’ll go to the lounge while you do whatever it is you do when you meet someone.”
“I can’t,” he says. “I’m only supposed to go into a patient’s room if there’s a nurse or family member present.”
“Okay, so I’ll be in there, then.” He’s confusing me. “I won’t—I won’t talk to you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I know I’m not … like I said, I’m here for my sister.”
He leans into the counter, leans in closer to me. It takes everything I have to not step back. He’s so—he’s so gorgeous. He’s—
He’s for Tess. I’m doing this for her. I force myself to keep looking at him.
“You’re really serious, aren’t you?” he finally says. “You really think I can wake your sister up.”
I nod.
He laughs.
He actually laughs, eyes crinkling up, hair tumbling in perfect casual disarray over his forehead and down over his ears, and I force myself to smile back, to act like I am unmoved by him, like him laughing at me means nothing. I picture myself as the tiny animal I am, all anger and hard-earned knowledge, claws and fangs and an immovable heart.
I picture Tess awake, and my parents happy.
“I know Clement put you up to this,” he says when he’s done laughing. “Tell him I got the message and I swear, I’ll stop giving away gum.”
“Wait, hold up. You’re giving away gum?” I say, and hold out one hand like I’m waiting for a pack.
Something else I’ve learned is that it’s best to take the moments where you want the ground to swallow you whole—moments like now—and just get through them. Act like you don’t care that you’ve put yourself out there and gotten pushed away. Or, in this case, laughed at.
“I was,” he says. “But I’m not now. Tell Clement I know the gift shop is supposed to benefit whoever it’s supposed to benefit, and—”
“Ferrisville,” I say, the little animal that is me now claws-ready. “You’re working to raise money for people from Ferrisville who can’t afford to be treated here.”
“I forgot—”
“I bet you did. Let me guess, you got in trouble at Saint Andrew’s and got assigned here as some sort of punishment?”
“I forgot the name of the town, that’s all,” he says. “How did you know I go to Saint Andrew’s?”
I laugh, brittle and sharp. “We don’t have guys like you in Ferrisville.”
“You sound happy about that.”
“Don’t sound so surprised. You just laughed at me when I asked you to help my sister, remember?”
“I—you’re serious?”
“Yes,” I say, exasperation creeping into my voice. What’s with this guy?
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I—look, I really thought Clement sent you here, and I don’t—I don’t see how I can help your sister. Seriously. I didn’t see her doing anything when I was in her room,