I Hope This Doesn’t Find You

by Ann Liang

“Are you here to select bread or a future wife? What’s taking so long?” His smile is sharp, taunting. “The latter.”

“You should leave.” He stands up, but only to lean back against the wall. “Are you going to make me?” “I can,” I say. “You’re not a customer anymore. I can do anything.” His stance doesn’t change. “Do it, then. Do whatever you want.”

“She’s smart, okay? She’s a formidable force. She does everything she sets her mind to and nothing can stand in her way. Not even me.”

Julius always manages to infuriate me. The irony is that for the first time, I’m not angry at him; I’m angry because of him. Because the only person who should be allowed to attack him is me.

whatever cursed reason, there are multiple paintings of naked clowns hung up in every room, right on open display for everyone to see.

“You know what? I hate you,” I breathe, because it’s easier to say I hate you than you hurt me.

His gaze snaps up to me. Something flashes across his face, and he leans in abruptly, his eyes fierce and dangerous and on fire. I can feel the heat of his breath against my lips when he says, “I hate you more.” “That’s impossible.” His smile is a sneer. “I promise it isn’t.”

His eyes could cut me open as they drift down lower, linger on my parted mouth. They darken, turn wholly black, until I can’t tell the pupils from the irises. For a shameful second, I think he’s going to grab my face and kiss me, the kind of kiss you feel down to your toes, all heat and hunger and wild intentions.

And for a split second, I need him to, I’m dying to, if only for a chance to sink my nails into his skin, to find a spot of vulnerability somewhere in his body.

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 have to understand . . . If you knew the effect you had on me, how often I think about you, the things I would do for you . . . I wouldn’t stand a chance against you ever again. You would have taken everything from me,” he goes on in a rush, like the words are burning him from within, like he has to get it out before the pain becomes overwhelming. “Not just a debating championship or some points for a test or a fancy award or a spot in a competition—but my whole heart. My pride. God, my sanity. It would be all over. You would annihilate me.”

you’re so much more than that. I can’t pretend to care about the things that once interested me. I can’t fall asleep. I play through every look you’ve ever cast in my direction. I read through your emails over and over until they’re carved into my memory. You did this to me,”

Because I’m willing to lose everything,” he says, his eyes blacker than the surrounding darkness, than the sky outside, “so long as I don’t lose you.”

I know what I’m like. That I’m infuriating. And selfish. And cruel. I know I’m not perfect the way my brother is, and I manage to disappoint my parents every time. It’s okay if you don’t choose me, really—I never expected to be the first choice. I wouldn’t blame you—” “I do choose you.”

“What . . . did you just say? Say it again.” “I choose you,” I say quietly, glad for the shadows concealing my flushed cheeks. For the support of the wall behind me. “You’ll always be my first choice, Julius Gong.”

“You’re killing me now,” he murmurs against my neck. His lips graze my skin, and his other hand slides up, tangles in my hair, his nails lightly scraping my scalp. Despite myself, I feel my resolve buckle. “Isn’t that enough?”

“Fine, then.” His breath warms the shell of my ear. Tickles my cheek. “Please.” I can feel my heart pounding. “What?” “Please, Sadie. I’m begging.”

“Do you always pay such close attention to everything people say?” he demands between short, uneven breaths. “No. Only what you say.” A sharp intake of air. “You have to stop doing that, Sadie.” His hand tightens around my waist. “I won’t survive it.”

“What if we’re bad at—liking each other? What if we don’t know how to be—civil—or nice—” “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?”

I’m not so familiar with vices—I like to think I have none, but if anything were to count, you would be my only one. It must be an addiction or an obsession. I have never known anybody as completely as I know you, and yet I still want to sit next to you, draw close to you, closer.

I want you to tell me every story, want to listen to you speak until the night sinks in the sky and the stars fade out.

I want you to hold me like a grudge, keep me like a promise, haunt me like a ghost. You’re ...

I’m not sure if I expressed myself clearly enough then, if I’d convinced you enough. If not, then let me establish for now and forever that you will never be second. You will never be inadequate. You will never be anything but good.

Because you challenge me, you distract me when my brain is being cruel, you sharpen my edges when the world tries to wear them down. Because every time I tired during class, I would catch your eye across the room, and remember why I needed to keep going.

When I was fourteen, I would stare up at my bedroom walls and wonder what it was like to fall in love. Most of my inspiration came from songs and the movies. But still, I imagined it. What it would be like to be someone who had somebody else. I would imagine tenderness. The concept of infinity. Of endless patience. Imagine them chasing after me even when I run. Cradling my sorrows in the palm of their hands. Imagine them caring, trying to understand.

And now there’s you. This whole time, it’s been you, and I didn’t even realize.

In retrospect, it makes sense, doesn’t it? In order to beat the enemy, you have to understand them intimately. You have to observe them, learn their weaknesses, memorize their every wo...

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

All of which is to say I really hope this finds you. And I hope y...

You were right, Sadie Wen. I am completely, helplessly obsessed with you. Love, Julius