Hopeless

know what to say. Did he just admit that he’s suicidal? Was he being metaphorical? Melodramatic? I have no idea what to do with the bomb he just placed in my lap.
    He brings a plate of both cookies and brownies back to the table, then kneels down in front of me.
    “Hey,” he says soothingly, taking my face in his hands. His expression is serene. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m not suicidal if that’s what’s freaking you out. I’m not fucked up in the head. I’m not deranged. I’m not suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. I’m just a brother who loved his sister more than life itself, so I get a little intense when I think about her. And if I cope better by telling myself that what she did was noble, even though it wasn’t, then that’s all I’m doing. I’m just coping.” He’s got a tight grip on my face and he’s looking at me desperately, wanting me to understand where he’s coming from. “I fucking loved that girl, Sky. I need to believe that what she did was the only answer she had left, because if I don’t, then I’ll never forgive myself for not helping her find a different one.” He presses his forehead to mine. “Okay?”
    I nod, then pull his hands from my face. I can’t let him see me do this. “I need to use the bathroom.” He backs up and I rush to the bathroom and shut the door behind me, then I do something I haven’t done since I was five. I cry.
    I don’t ugly cry. I don’t sob and I don’t even make a noise. A single tear falls down my cheek and it’s one tear too many, so I quickly wipe it away. I take a tissue and wipe at my eyes in an attempt to stop any other tears from forming.
    I still don’t know what to say to him, but I feel like he put a pretty tight lid on the subject, so I decide to let it go for now. I shake out my hands and take a deep breath, then open the door. He’s standing across the hallway with his feet crossed at the ankles and his hands hanging loosely in his pockets. He straightens up and takes a step closer to me.
    “We good?” he asks.
    I smile my best smile and nod, then take a deep breath. “I told you I think you’re intense. This just proves my point.”
    He smiles and nudges me toward the bedroom. He wraps his arms around me from behind and rests his chin on top of my head while we make our way toward my room. “Are you allowed to get pregnant yet?”
    I laugh. “Nope. Not this weekend. Besides, you have to kiss a girl before you can knock her up.”
    “Did someone not have sex education when she was homeschooled?” he says. “Because I could totally knock you up without ever kissing you. Want me to show you?”
    I hop on the bed and grab the book, opening it up to where we left off last night. “I’ll take your word for it. Besides, I’m hoping we’re about to get a hefty dose of sex education before we make it to the last page.”
    Holder drops down on the bed and I lay beside him. He puts his arm around me and pulls me toward him, so I rest my head on his chest and begin reading.

    I know he’s not doing it on purpose, but the entire time I’m reading I’m completely distracted by him. He’s looking down at me, watching my mouth as I read, twirling my hair between his fingertips. Every time I flip a page, I glance up at him and he’s got the same concentrated expression on his face each time. An expression so concentrated on my mouth, it tells me he’s not paying a damn bit of attention to a single word I’m reading. I close the book and bring it to my stomach. I don’t even think he notices I closed the book.
    “Why’d you stop talking?” he says, never changing his expression or pulling his gaze from my mouth.
    “Talking?” I ask curiously. “Holder, I’m reading . There’s a difference. And from the looks of it, you haven’t been paying a lick of attention.”
    He looks me in the eyes and grins. “Oh, I’ve been paying attention,” he says. “To your mouth. Maybe not to the words coming out of it, but definitely to your mouth.”
    He scoots me off of his chest and onto my back, then he slides down beside me and pulls me against him. Still, his expression hasn’t changed and he’s staring at me like he wants to eat me. I sort of wish he would.
    He brings his fingers up to my lips and begins tracing them, slowly. It feels so incredible, I’m too scared to breathe for fear he might stop. I swear it’s as though his fingers have a direct line to every sensitive spot on my entire