Yours Truly (Part of Your World, #2)

by Abby Jimenez

I rolled my eyes and waited. This year was going to be my villain origin story, I just knew it.

“But remember, you can’t spell disappointment without men,”

I knew for her they were probably just notes. She was likable and easy. She probably had this fun little back-and-forth with everyone in one way or another. But for me it was a lifeline. An outstretched hand while I was falling, an umbrella in a downpour. Friendship in a hostile place.

This was me making space for her, even though she would never know it. My way of saying thank you for her friendship, even if it was too quiet to hear.

I was rendered frozen and speechless and completely at her mercy, and I had to wonder with a touch of awe and amusement if she had bewitched me. If I was under some spell. Because I’d never felt like this before, this compelled to do something for someone I just met, this drawn to anyone. Maybe she’d started that coven after all.

“Un hombre que puede mantener viva una planta tiene la paciencia de aguantar tus mierdas. It means ‘A man who can keep a plant alive has the patience to put up with your shit.’”

“It’s like I always say,” Mom said, wiping under her eyes. “Love shows up. That’s how you know when it’s real. And what a beautiful way to show up for someone, Jacob.”

Jacob made me feel safe. He was like a living lullaby. A softly spoken word. The smell of coffee and toast in the morning or a cozy fleece blanket. The rain pattering on the roof on a day where you don’t have to go anywhere or do anything.

Doug made his way over to the table with a guitar in his hand. Briana rolled her eyes. “Doug, do you know what the definition of insanity is?” she asked, raising her voice so he could hear her before he got to the table. He looked indignant. “This isn’t for you,” he said, holding up his guitar. “You had your chance.” Briana snorted. “There’s fresh meat over at the bar.” He nodded to a pair of women drinking beers. Briana craned her neck to look at them. “Oh. Well, make sure you call them meat to their faces. Women like that.”

Nothing we talked about tonight would feel real tomorrow anyway. At least not for her. But I got to hold her. That was real. That was at least something. The fire burned down to embers and I stayed there until my back hurt from leaning on a hope chest. Then I picked her up and carried her to bed. And while she was cradled in my arms, she muttered something about teleporting.

“We’re all a little broken, Briana. We are a mosaic. We’re made up of all those we’ve met and all the things we’ve been through. There are parts of us that are colorful and dark and jagged and beautiful. And I love every piece of you. Even the ones you wish didn’t exist.”

There’s a special peace in sleeping next to someone you love. When you slip into the dark holding them and wake up and they’re still there and you know that everything that matters is just opening your eyes away.

…I thought I’d been in love before. I’d called it love, I’d believed it was love. But Briana is the lesson. She’s the one who taught me what it really feels like to live for someone else…