After a tragic event drives her out of little Hillsborough, NC, 19-year-old Meghan Greene finds herself living in a Manhattan apartment with her best friend Chelsea Matthews. Officially enrolled in NYU and wanting to forget about her old life in her...
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Sebastian
I sit in complete silence. Meg has settled herself between my legs, which are stretched out in front of me, while her head rests against my neck. Her breathing has evened out, her body no longer shaking from the heart-wrenching sobs that filled the room earlier today. I've had my arms wrapped around her for God knows how long, but damn it I don't want to let go.
Everything that I've learned today has me in utter shock. When they told me that Meghan had been through some tough shit, I never would have expected this.
The one thought that kept nagging me was the one of whether she truly wanted to tell me about her past, or if she felt forced after the hospital incident. Sometimes speaking about things before you're ready to can lead to a road of turmoil, I'm still traveling down mine.
But now, knowing everything that she's been through and the way she's put up this facade to shield herself from the world, I know that her and I are a lot more alike than not. I promised myself three years ago that I would never abandon anyone in their time of need, knowing all too well what abandonment felt like.
"I'm here, Meg," I whispered against her hair, "I promise you that I'm here."
A soft knock brought me out of my depressing thoughts and towards the bedroom door. It slowly opened, allowing Chelsea to peek her head through and look around the room. Once her eyes settled on Meg sleeping in my arms, her eyes softened and a sad smile appeared.
"Can I talk to you?" She whispered, motioning out towards the hallway. I nodded her way and slowly unwrapped Meghan from where her arms rested around my neck, shuffling over to lay her head on the pillows. After practically tucking her in to bed, I let my knuckles graze her cheek and moved some stray strands of her brown hair away from her face. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes a little red around the outside and her lips swollen from how many times she bit into them.
Absolutely beautiful, I thought. Sam was a lucky guy, that's for sure.
She stirred and I recoiled my hand faster than lightning, shaking away my wandering thoughts. The need to protect her was too much, my heart hammering against my chest as I looked at a broken girl who allowed herself to show how vulnerable she truly was to a broken boy. A broken boy who wished one day he had half the amount of courage that she did, so he could tell her all about how truly alike they were.
I sat up and walked out of the room, trying my hardest not to make a sound. Chelsea was waiting outside the door, leaning against the far wall. I followed her over to the living room where we both sat on the couch and stared at the black television screen, neither one of us even attempting to break the silence.
I felt the couch beside me dip and from the corner of my eye I saw Chelsea was now facing me. I turned my head to face her, noticing the tears that were on the verge of spilling from her eyes. With a shaky breath, and an equally shaky hand, she placed it on my arm and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
