| published! under the new title MEET ME IN THE MIDDLE | Eden knows she can't love Truman, the boy with the angelic smile and devilish eyes. Why? He's her best friend Katie's older brother, who she strictly promised she'd stay away from.
But when a...
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E D E N
Most mornings began the same. I woke up and went to class, maybe stopped by the hospital if I had enough time. Today I decided to go visit Katie. And I wish I hadn't. Truman was sleeping on the couch in her room, Santana laying in his arms. I stared at the two of them and I felt like I didn't belong. That I didn't even have a right to be here, interrupting.
I knew it was wrong. Katie was my best friend. I was welcomed here. I was supposed to be here. But today, everything felt wrong. Off.
I was nearly out the door when Santana softly called, "Eden, wait." She was untangling herself from Truman's arms until she sat upright. I pretended it didn't hurt, to see her with him. "Sorry, we fell asleep. Did you want to be alone with her? I'll wake Truman up. We can leave—"
"No," I said quickly before he opened his eyes and saw the hurt on my face. Because he would see it, he could read me too easily. "That's okay. I have to get to class."
"Are you sure? It's fine. We can leave if you want. Or Tru can stay, if you want to talk to him." She was being so nice. Too nice. She was smiling gently like she really meant it. Like she would clear the room in a heartbeat if that's what I wanted.
Like she'd leave me alone with her boyfriend, not knowing he'd try to kiss me the moment she left the room.
"Thanks, Santana."
I left before he could wake up. It was better like this: the two of them together and me on the outside. This was normal. This is what I needed and what Katie wanted.
Walking to class made my mind race. Every time I seemed to have a minute alone it was stuck on Truman. I replayed yesterday in my head, the painting and the hand holding. It felt wrong. It felt like borderline cheating. And I wasn't going to be the other girl.
It was easier to be around Truman when I thought of Santana as Satan, as this girl Katie painted her out to be. It was easier when I knew he was unhappy and blamed her for his unhappiness. And I hated myself for feeling that.
But now, now it all felt wrong.
I raised the volume of the music blasting in my ears for the rest of the walk.
My Art professor's office-building was empty. There were a few students walking through the halls, but most people were in class at this time. I knocked on her office door, then a faint "come in" sounded from inside and I pushed it open. She was sitting behind a desk that was covered in tiny plants, typing on a laptop.
She smiled. "Miss. Flores, have a seat."
I said hello and sat in the only chair, eyeing the room around me. The walls were yellow, covered in hand-drawn paintings that seemed to be from a child, or a very untalented adult.
