Page 71 of All That We Are Together

“Tell me what you’re thinking.”

He came close and kissed me softly. “I’m thinking about how incredible you are.”

“I’m serious,” I laughed.

“So am I. What are you worried about?”

“You know. The situation.” I sat on the kitchen counter, while he put water on to boil and took a packet of pasta from the pantry. “I want you to tell me what you’re feeling, especially if something ever makes you uncomfortable. Please, don’t keep it inside.”

With a slightly preoccupied air, he said, “That would only make things more complicated.”

“Fine,” I said. “Make them complicated.”

I always preferred that to silence.

“I don’t like the way he looks at you,” he said.

“He doesn’t look at me any way.”

Landon tossed the pasta in the boiling water.

“I also don’t like that you refuse to admit it.”

“If you knew Axel, you’d understand.”

I bit my lip. I didn’t want to go further and tell him not to trust his first impressions of Axel, who was less intense than his appearance promised, and who didn’tlove things enough, as he had told me.

“Have you all talked?” he asked.

“What do you mean, exactly?”

“Dammit, Leah. About your relationship. About what happened.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“How can you say that…?”

“We’re friends,” I cut him off. I was getting angry now. “And I’d prefer to forget we ever shared anything else, because when I remember all that, I can’t forgive him. We haven’t talked,and I doubt we ever will; that’s something that happened, and sometimes it’s better to leave things behind so you don’t have to drag a burden around with you forever, understand? That’s how it has to be.”

Landon nodded, but his look was serious.

“Do you still hold it against him?”

“Yes,” I lied. I lied because I couldn’t face the truth and wasn’t ready to answer the question honestly. If I said no, I’d be destroying the fragile edifice of my new relationship with Axel.

59

Axel

The first time I felt the need to paint, I was thirteen years old. Oliver hadn’t gone to school because he had a fever, so I went to his house on my way back from class. Rose opened the door and smiled before letting me in.

“Come on in, honey. Oliver’s asleep.”

“Still? What a wimp.”

Rose laughed, and I followed her to the kitchen.

“You want an orange juice?”