Worth the Trouble ✓

11 | the middleman

PRIORITIES AND ROUTINE SHIFT, JUST like the organs inside Suki's body—according to a disturbing GIF she sent me last night, CGI-modelling the innards of women over the trimesters.

Pregnancy changes everything. But nothing has changed for me. If it turns out that the best thing for all parties involved is breaking up, then I'll leave it up to Suki to make that call. I don't know how long that'll take. I don't know if, by some generous twist of fate, I can end up spending a lifetime with her.

I'll pour myself into Suki until she stops me, returning my heart in liquid teardrop form. It doesn't matter what challenges come our way between now and then.

Two weeks later, I find Suki's locker wide open, Suki herself leaning deep into it on her tiptoes.

I lean against the locker two doors away, one foot propped against the blue metal.

She slams the door shut and jolts seeing me. "Oh, Christ."

"How was your morning?" I wonder, pretending to be checking my phone.

"So-so," she replies, turning to lean her back against the locker, one arm holding papers to her chest. I peer at her side profile, admiring the elegant slope of her nose and the tempting curve of her lips. "How was yours?"

"Better now that I've seen you."

Suki smirks at me, rolling her eyes at my cheesy lines. "People could be watching us right now..."

Her eyes slide around the hallway, only to find one other lingering student between periods. They round the corner and we are alone.

As Suki's most precious, dirty little secret, I wasn't planning to shine a spotlight on our relationship. In fact, if she had told me from the beginning about the situation with her parents, I would have helped keep the relationship under wraps. Fuck knows I'm great at being sneaky.

I didn't mind being kept secret. I minded having secrets kept from me.

"They won't jump to the conclusion that we're dating. Look here." I walk to Suki's front, leaning both my hands on the side of her head, caging her in my arms. "If anyone sees, I'm bullying you right now."

When I tilt my head down, a stray lock of hair skimming my forehead, Suki tips her chin up in defiance. "You're bullying me?"

"Mm-hmm." A flinty edge slides into my voice. "Give me your lunch money."

Suki snorts and catches on. "Might need some more intimidating on your part."

Thing is, Suki looks too beautiful for me to truly be mean to her.

"Give me your lunch money or else?"

The corner of my lip twitches, and then Suki cackles, dropping the schoolgirl facade and sliding a hand onto my chest. "Or else?"

From her drooping eyelids and swirling brown irises, I know she wants me to kiss her. But that would definitely be PDA, and boyfriend-type behaviour, no matter how alone we are right now.

Bypassing her parted lips, I whisper into her ear, "You'll have to find out later."

Her fist lands on my shoulder, a punch full of frustration but no wrath. Suki pouts. "You really are a bully."

When my hands fall back to my sides and I step away, I notice the papers clutched to her chest. "What's this?"

"A History essay. Hey! Terrence! Give it back. It's full of errors—"

After plucking it from her hands, I note that it is indeed a History essay, but definitely not full of errors. It's cleanly-typed, written in simple language—uncharacteristically simple considering Suki's expansive vocabulary.