Free Damaged by H.M. Ward

and decide to just say it. “Listen, I don’t really get along with that many people and I enjoyed talking to you the other day. Talking isn’t against university policy, is it?” I tease.
    Peter gives me a hesitant smile. “No, it’s not. Okay, tell me something about yourself. How’d you end up here?”
    I pause. Damn it. Out of everything to ask, he asks that. I hedge. “College.”
    “I know that,” he says, looking up at me. “I mean what made you chose this college? Why leave and come here. This town is a hell hole and the people are a little weird, in case you didn’t notice.” He smiles at me.
    I keep working as I speak. I might as well tell him. It’s not like it’ll change anything. “I traded one hell for another, I guess. I wanted to get as far away from my family as possible. Something happened during my senior year. They blamed me. I thought they should have defended me.” I feel my heart pounding in my chest as the memory rushes forward in my mind. A chill wraps around my throat and chokes me. I swallow hard, forcing the feeling away. “Anyway, I came here because the university offered me a way to pay for college by myself. I wanted to start over. So here I am.”
    Peter’s quiet. It’s not the normal why I went to college story. I don’t care what he thinks of me; at least I don’t want to. He finally asks, “Was it worth it? I mean, cutting everyone off. Did it fix things?”
    I feel his eyes on my face. I don’t look up. I can’t meet his gaze. Why did I tell him this? This conversation feels too intimate to be having with him. I expected Peter to gloss over it, as if he stepped in something icky, but he didn’t. I smile weakly, trying to hold my mask in place, trying to push away the memories that haunt me. “I’m not sure that it’s something that can be fixed. There are things like that, ya know? They change you and you can’t be who you were before. It doesn’t matter if it’s fixed or not.”
    Peter surprises me and says, “I know what you mean.” He doesn’t elaborate. His eyes have the same vacant stare from the other night, as though he’s remembering something he wants to forget.  He blinks and says, “I didn’t see you at Dr. Tadwick’s funeral yesterday.”
    “I didn’t go.”
    “Obviously. What I meant was that I’m surprised you didn’t go.”
    “I couldn’t.” I’m staring at the paper in my hands, not seeing the words on the page. I hold it too long. “I couldn’t bear to see his kids. I’m weak.” The thought of Tadwick’s daughters gathered around his casket with tears in their eyes was too much. I feel like I’m coming apart at the seams most days as it is. That would have unraveled me completely.
    “No, you’re not.” Peter puts another paper onto a pile.
    Shaking my head, I say, “You don’t even know me. How can you possibly say that?” I stare at him, daring him to answer.
    Peter lifts his head and our gazes lock. It’s like the other night. The feelings rush back. Something inside me stirs. My body responds to him as if I’m made for him. The hollow spot in my chest tingles and feels full. Something inside tugs me toward him and I can’t escape. I lose myself in his eyes. The bookcases and papers fade from sight and the only thing that I can see is Peter. His beautiful pink lips part, like he’s going to whisper something to me, but Marshal enters the room. Peter straightens and turns away from me.
    Marshal is oblivious to relationship stuff. He never notices anything, otherwise it would worry me. He walks into the room and shoves two stacks of papers into the bookcase. “These are the two graduate classes that I teach. The rest are yours. I have to go get the other stacks. Be right back.” Marshal turns and leaves, not realizing that he interrupted anything.
    I glance at the clock. It’s close to 8:00am. “I better get downstairs.”
    “Go ahead,” Peter says, his voice too soft. “I’ll meet you there in a few