[COMPLETE]
When Hanna Haddad embarks on what's supposed to be another uneventful summer as a lifeguard on Cape Cod, a trip to the past comes as an unnerving surprise. The discovery of her estranged mother's journal opens up the world of tragedy and...
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Colin's parents spent the next week hovering over his head.
Still weak and in pain, he hid under his covers shirtless most of the time, while they delivered him home-cooked meals or checked up on him during his afternoon naps. Two weeks removed from the accident, it began to feel more like a distant memory, if not for his still useless left arm.
"What are you going to do about Harvard?" I asked, sitting down on the edge of his mattress. Marc and Lauren had finally taken a much-deserved break from their dear son, going out to dinner in the city. "Classes start in less than a month."
He shrugged, more so with one shoulder. "I'll probably miss the first few weeks. I already took all my hard classes last year, so my schedule is pretty much a joke. Not a big deal, I guess."
"You're upset," I said quietly, placing a comforting hand on his knee. "You can't convince me you don't care."
"I mean, what can I do, Han? I have to work around it. My internship with InTech is already fucked, and not like if even they give me a return offer, I'll want to work there." He grumbled to himself and pressed one arm into his mattress to sit up. The sheets slipped away, revealing a sea of discolored skin around his broken ribs. I lunged forward to support his body, but he shooed me away, locking stoic eyes with my sullen ones. "You can tone it down a little, you know? I'm gonna be okay."
"I know, I know," I mumbled, realizing he did deserve some space. From the hospital staff to his parents to my overbearing self, he'd hardly been able to breathe these last two weeks—literally. "I just can't help it. I care about you, Colin."
He drew in his bottom lip, staring down at his wrinkled bedsheets. "In what way?"
I jerked my head up, my lips parting. "What do you mean? I care about you because you need someone who understands what you're going through right now."
"I'm asking because"—he tilted his head forward until the foot between us grew closer to six inches—"you kissed me that day in the hospital. Didn't think I remembered?"
"Th-that was just a kind gesture. You were in a really bad state."
He looked away, nodding slowly. "So it was just pity, then? Is that what all this is?"
"Gosh, why do you keep twisting my intentions?" I slapped my hands against my jeans-clad thighs, shaking my head to myself. "I don't know what you want anymore, Colin."
There were only centimeters between our faces now. "What I want..." he breathed, giving me no choice but to look into his eyes, "is simple. You, Hanna."
I opened my mouth, closed it, then opened it again. "I don't—" I tripped over my words, escaping to the corner of his bed. "I don't think you know what you're saying, Colin."
I clambered out of his bed and away from his room, rushing down the stairs. I found the nearest door out of his home and inhaled a breath of fresh air. Instead, I suffocated in the thick mid-August humidity, bent over with my hands on my knees.
