"Can I get you something?"
"I told you I'm fine," I said coldly, trying to not breathe. The heady scent of him still registered in the back of my throat, making my mouth water.
"I don't think you are."
I made myself look his way. He was smiling, only slightly. Mostly though, I could tell he was concerned, anxious even, at what he was observing in me. A fist squeezed around my heart, knowing that a very big part of me longed to ease his anxiety. But then my stomach rolled, reminding me why I couldn't.
"Are you tired?" he asked.
"Of course I'm … " But I made myself stop, not allowing my mouth to remind me aloud why it was that I was tired, why we'd been up all night. I sat forward, ramrod straight and pinched my eyelids together, concentrating on mentally folding an origami swan, blocking out the reasons for my anger.
Numb. Nothing. Blank.
"Ah, I see," he said, and I felt my backpack leaving my shoulder, sliding off my arm. "Why don't you relax and put your feet up." His hands were on my shoulders, pushing me back against the cushions. I didn't fight this, either.
I was aware that Henry had left the couch only when he returned. When I peeled my eyelids apart, there was a napkin and an open can of ginger ale on the coffee table before me. I closed my eyes again. A few seconds later, I felt the cold can between my hands. Mechanically, I lifted it to my lips and took a sip.
"Feeling better?"
"I said I'm-"
"Fine," he finished for me. "I heard you the first three times." He was studying me, wearing that anxious/concerned expression again, but when he met my eyes, he lifted an encouraging smile. "I was going to bring this up later," he said, "but since you're feeling fine and all … "
"What?" I asked, setting the can on the coffee table.
"I have news. A surprise."
Oh, goodie, the angry side of my brain jabbed. Are you leaving now? Is that the surprise? Bon voyage, buddy. Don't trip on your way out. The very next moment, my chest and throat burned with anguish. I didn't want him to go anywhere.
"A surprise for you."
I pinched my dry, burning lids together in a long blink, then glanced across the room, trying to focus on anything else while he continued talking.
"Of course, there are two floors, like I was telling you yesterday," he was saying. "Plenty of space-too much, really, but it's a perfect getaway. Well-deserved, I think." He laughed, but it had a bite of something else to it. "I don't know what my family will say. Camille will be in favor; my parents, though, I don't know. My father will freak out, but I think my mother will understand, maybe … "
I continued to sit still, my head throbbing, my stomach knotting up, not having a clue what he was going on about.
"But I don't care. I haven't for months, obviously. It's a wonder I haven't been thrown out of the program." Another bitter laugh. "Law school, my family … none of it means much right now. I tried to put off any decision, thought moving would help, but nothing did any good, because here we are. At this point, the thought of living any other way is impossible."
When he lifted my hand off my lap, I glanced at him, straining from the pressure writhing behind my eyes.
"We can go tomorrow," he said. "Or tonight. Right now, if you want."
When my eyebrows pulled together, it caused a new pain in my head. "Go?" I said, realizing I hadn't been listening. "Where?"
He pressed his hands together, mine between them. "Tahiti."
Even though I was physically immovable, my brain was working now, catching up to what he'd been saying.
"What?" I pulled my hand free.
He seemed mystified by my reaction, because he only stared at me. A moment later, he sighed and the lines in his forehead smoothed out. "The invitation might seem out of the blue to you, but I've been thinking about it, about you, a lot, and you know how I feel … "
He looked into my eyes and leaned in.
I almost allowed it to happen. Part of me wanted it, wanted him, needed him. I could practically taste the delicious water waiting to quench my aching pain and thirst. My hands longed to touch him and feel him one more time, while another part of me knew better, and I followed its command.
"Don't," I said, scooting away and standing up. "Don't do that."
Knightly remained on the edge of the couch, looking a little rattled. "Why are you so upset?"
I put my hands on my hips. "Hmm, where should I begin?"
When he rose to his feet, I stepped back, keeping a distance. Henry stopped and watched me guardedly, like he was waiting to see if my head was about to burst into flames.
"Spring," he said, sounding genuinely concerned and more than a little anxious. "What's really going on? What's wrong?"
"This plan of yours," I began. "You expect me to drop out of Stanford, leave my whole life, and fly across the world?"
He moved toward me cautiously, his hands out like a cowboy approaching a wild mustang. "I'm sorry if I was undiplomatic about it. I'm not romantic, but I am only thinking of you. You can take a break there, finish your thesis. It's all arranged."
"You're crazy, you know that? You're insane, you're- Why are you laughing?"
He slid his hands in his pockets, his huge grin about to break. "I so enjoy when you get like this."
"You enjoy when I'm angry?"
He took a beat, his brows furrowing. "No, not angry," he corrected. It was one of the few times I'd seen him backpedal. "You know when I'm just pushing your buttons."
"You need to leave," I said, realizing my do-not-argue plan had failed. "Right now."
His smile dropped. "Why?"
I nodded toward the door, but he didn't move. "I swear, Henry Knightly"-my voice was getting louder and higher pitched-"if you don't leave this instant-"
"Spring."
I jabbed a finger at the door, demanding that he go.
"I'm not leaving." He took a step forward. "I'm in love with you."
I blinked, and air whooshed from my lungs in one hard gust. "What did you say?"
He took another step. "I love you."
For a moment, I still couldn't breathe-I was in shock, his simple words derailing my anger completely. But the moment was up as quickly as it had come. He might as well have said his favorite color was blue.
"So?" I said, forcing my voice to regrip the anger.
I could both see and hear him take in a sharp breath.
"So?" He ran a hand through his hair. "I love you and I want you … to come with me, to be with me."
"You seriously think I'll run away with you because that's what you happen to want at the moment?"
Words were flying at me, I could actually see them in my mind's eye, forming into sentences. Aiding and abetting these words were memories from the past, bruised feelings that were supposed to be gone, that I thought were gone. I only had to open my mouth and they came tumbling out.
"May I remind you that the night we met you treated me like an ingrate? You were rude and judgmental because of what you heard and because of the way I looked, like I was beneath your dignity."
"That's not true."
"Why don't you take Lilah to Tahiti? I'm sure she'd be thrilled to pick up where you two left off."
Knightly turned completely white. I thought this would please me, but it didn't. In fact, it felt like the wind had been knocked out of me again. Once more, I wanted to go to him, to take back my words, to wrap my arms around him until the hurt in his eyes went away. In some sick, ironic twist, I knew that comforting him would comfort me. If the past didn't exist, nothing would be in our way.
But the past was rushing back, too quickly for me to block, and it was very real.
"Lilah, Henry!" My voice broke. "What were you thinking?"
At that point, I didn't know if I wanted an explanation from him, or an apology, or what. All I knew was suddenly the thought of them together was revolting.
He spread his hands. "Lilah was … Spring, she means nothing to me. It was nothing."
"Nothing?" I repeated. "You have sex with her and that's nothing? Even you can't be that crass."
He dropped his hands but didn't reply.
"Is that what you expect out of me, too? I'm so sorry I disappointed you by not tearing off my clothes in front of the campfire."
"I wasn't going to sleep with you last night. It's been one day, we're not … " He trailed off and thrust another hand through his hair. "Lilah was a mistake that I've regretted every day since. Believe me."