Intrinsical - Lani Woodland [67]
“Ready to see her tonight?” Brent asked as we paused before them.
I sat down on the bottom step and leaned against the metal handrail. After a few moments, I picked at one of the sequins on my dress and asked in a pleading voice, “Do you think she’s okay?” I wiped away the tears forming in my eyes.
“I don’t know,” he said softly, “I’ve been here with you.” He smiled as he offered, “Do you want me to go and find out for you?”
“I do want to know . . . I think I want to know . . . but I think I need to go with you.”
“Are you ready then?” His tone was gentle, as if he had his own doubts about my readiness.
I took a ragged breath. “Uh, in just a few minutes.”
He nodded as he stood and walked to the window. Ready or not, I decided I needed to do this, and followed him. I nodded to Brent, trying to exude a calm I didn’t feel. With a glance of his eye, the window smoothly slid open. I paused for a second, awed by his strength.
“You really are powerful.” I realized my words sounded strange, but I meant them. It was like Brent was some sort of warrior, but instead of leading people, he commanded the world around him with a wave of the hand, a flick of the wrist, or even a glance.
“It isn’t a big deal,” he said humbly.
I knew he was being modest; I had been practicing for over two months and didn’t have even a sixteenth of his ability. He’s really pretty incredible. He—
At that moment, I was aware of Brent trying to find out what I was thinking, and I quickly changed my line of thought.
With a warning grin I shook my finger at him. “I don’t think so.”
Rather brazenly, he said, “You were thinking something about me. I was curious.”
I had several comebacks on the tip of my tongue. Instead, I smiled with a slight shrug. For a brief moment, I almost forgot what I was about to do, but as soon as I remembered, the tip of my thumb was in my mouth, being bitten on hard. It was a bad habit that I had broken when I was twelve.
I paced back and forth in front of the window, inspecting the empty, darkened campus. A few of the lights in the dorm houses were on, and I could occasionally make out shapes of students inside their rooms, most bent over books and laptops.
“You can do this,” Brent offered encouragingly. He put a reassuring hand on my shoulder.
“I know,” I said, trying to sound fearless. But I knew he wouldn’t miss the spasms of doubt that flooded through me.
“What exactly are you afraid of?”
I turned to face him, leaning on the railing. “That she won’t be okay.” I bit my thumb again and then released it from my teeth as I added, “And I’m even more afraid that she will be.” I sighed in self-reproach. “I’m the most selfish, horrible person I’ve ever met. How could I ever wish that on Cherie? She’s been through so much.”
I spun around and marched with determination down the stairs, toward the refuge of the groves. There was no way that I, being so self-centered, deserved to see Cherie. Brent caught up to me and blocked my way.
“Wait. Of course you feel that way. I don’t think you could actually care for someone and not hope that some part of them misses you.”
I shook my head, still angry with myself and unwilling to accept his words. “No.” I covered my ears with my hands and squeezed my eyes shut, refusing to hear anymore.
“Yara, please listen.”
“No, you are going to try to make me feel better and I refuse to let myself feel that way.” I realized I was having a tantrum of sorts, but I couldn’t bring myself to care.
“Oh, you refuse, do you?” He queried with slight amusement. Suddenly Brent was in my thoughts.
You can’t shut me out. You’ll hear what I have to say. It’s normal to feel that way.
My eyes popped open and I dropped my hands to my side. “Do you really think so?”
“I’m very aware of your emotions. You love her. I know you don’t want her to forget you— but even more than that, you want her to be okay.”
“I do?” I looked at him with relief, knowing I couldn’t hide things from him. I hoped he wasn’t just telling me what I wanted to hear.
His eyes communicated