Normal people yelled and screamed when they were angry. I cried.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay? Why are you crying?” Lincoln sounded alarmed, but I didn’t care. He deserved to feel bad.
“You’re such a damn liar,” I said, frowning at the slur in my voice. Why did I sound like a complete floozy? I hadn’t had that much to drink, had I?
Lincoln moved in his seat and I looked over to see that his entire body was angled towards me. His brow was creased, his eyes were somber, and his mouth was turned downwards. “What have I lied to you about? Everything I’ve told you has been the truth.”
“You just told me that I was perfect,” I said, brushing away my angry tears. “But then you turn around and tell me that you can’t do anything with me. What the hell is that supposed to mean? I’m tired of guys giving me mixed signals! I’m tired of crushing on you, but having to pretend that I’m not!”
There was a silence, and Lincoln stared at me, looking stunned. His eyes searched my face and he pressed his lips together when he could tell that I was being serious. Gosh, I was drunk, not deranged!
“You…you’re crushing on me?”
I rolled my eyes. “Why is that so hard for you to believe? Have you seen yourself? Do you ever look in the mirror?”
Lincoln’s eyes were so full of hurt and devastation that for a moment I thought that I’d said something to make him look that way. He dropped his head onto the steering wheel and didn’t look up as he spoke.
“Hadie, there is so much I want to tell you, so much I have to tell you, but this isn’t the right time. Not when you’re probably going to forget most of this conversation tomorrow. I’ve been so selfish and so weak around you. I’ve let my guard down; I’ve let you in. When I look in the mirror all I see is my life falling apart. That’s how everyone treated me in New York. That’s how I expected everyone to treat me in Statlen, but instead I met you.”
His words were so cryptic that I had no idea what he was talking about. All I knew was that there was something tearing him up inside, and I wanted to comfort him. My head was buzzing as I reached over and lifted up his head. He stared back at me with burning eyes and an unspoken connection passed between us.
I ran my hand through his short hair, letting it drop down to his face before I grabbed a fistful of his shirt. My head was fuzzy, but I knew what I wanted to do. Probably, I would never have been brave enough to do this sober, but that didn’t seem important right now. What seemed important was holding him, touching him, being close to him.