Chapter 7

He raises my chin to look me in the eye and asks, “Are you okay with this?”

Like I can tell him no. “I guess,” I whisper.

What I want to say is he shouldn’t need the pills. He has me. He should come to me—he should ask meto take the weight of the world off his shoulders when it gets too heavy for him, he should ask meto let the world turn without him when he barely manages to hang on. He does that for me. Why can’t he let me do it for him, too?

But I don’t say any of that and he starts kissing the pout away, his hands rubbing in all the right places, his lips eager and hungry on mine. Even though it’s a little before six in the evening, we manage to make up for last night. I lose myself in Aaron, and his hands and mouth make the rest of the world disappear.

Why can’t I do that for him?

* * * *