Keyframe

She Knows

"Bad things happen to the people you love,
and you find yourself praying up to heaven above.
But honestly, I've never had much sympathy.
Cause those bad things, I always saw them coming for me."

- "She Knows," J. Cole ft. Amber Coffman & Cults (2014)

Alejandro

"So you...actually wanted to study?"

I drop an eyebrow at Lily even though she can't see me, resting my chin on top of her head as I often do. She's still flipping through notes for her last final when I glance at her laptop, dutifully studying each line as if she can't feel my heartbeat on her back.

"What else would I want?"

"I couldn't possibly imagine," I mutter sarcastically, pressing down fresh memories of me muffling her moans in this very bed.

She's icy today...has been all week. I want to chalk it up to finals and all the stress they bring for her, but trouble with school normally pushes her right into my arms—not away from them. With Cleo already moved out and her room all to ourselves, I assumed we'd be a bit cozier than we are right now. But Lily's never been one to let sex get in the way of her studies, no matter how distracting I may be. Her coldness probably means nothing in the long run.

I hope.

"Can I help?" I offer, watching the still summer night outside of her second floor window. She takes a moment to answer, fingers tapping on her keyboard in the silence.

"Um..." A pause and more tapping—like she really has to think about it. "Yeah, I guess."

"Okay...I'll quiz you."

I make note of her apprehension but try not to show it in my response, scooting back as she turns to face me. Her eyes stay down on her laptop for as long as possible when she passes it to me, then shooting to the pink flowers of her bedspread when eyeing the Mac would mean eyeing me as well.

"Hey." I lift her chin with two fingers, turning her brown gaze up to mine for what feels like the first time all day. "Is something wrong?"

Her doe eyes waver ever so slightly before closing, and she gives a soft exhale to signal the beginning of her reply.

"Honestly, I'm...I'm upset. I've just been thinking." She opens her eyes again, but the look of pure defeat in them stirs something in me—so much so that I feel it in my chest. "I guess I'm finally coming to terms with the fact that there really are limits to what I can do. That's all."

"What are you talking about?" I murmur, voice soft but throat tight with concern. "Did someone say something like that to you?"

Oh shit.

Did I?

"It's a problem for later." She rubs her knees nervously, lifting her eyes to the ceiling above us. It's completely bare, the flower garlands and string lights that used to hang there packed away in preparation for move-out. "Let's just focus on microbiology. It's the only thing stopping me from getting out of here."

I definitely said something like that to her—last weekend when she hit me out of the blue with the Montoya business. I didn't mean it like that, but what else was I supposed to say on such short notice? When not saying that and letting her find out on her own would hurt her so much more than an offhanded comment?