Rhys
Choice and accountability [choys / and / uh-koun-tuh-bil-i-tee] n—The right to make a decision and the responsibility to answer for it
It’s only been twelve hours, but it feels like a lifetime since I held her in my arms. I have to make her understand how much I love her and that we can make this work.
I get to class first and sit in our spot. She slips in right before class starts. I’m not surprised that she doesn’t sit by me, but it hurts more than I thought it would. I finish the test quickly, then spend the rest of the hour staring at her back.
“Brother Solario. Sister Jennings,” Brother Clark says. “Time’s up. I need to collect your exams.”
Emmy sets down her pencil, then chews her finger as she stares down at her test.
I jump to my feet. “She’s not done yet. You need to give her more time. She’s dysl—”
“It’s fine.” Emmy holds up a hand but doesn’t look back at me. “I’m finished.” She collects her belongings, hands over her test, and dashes out of the room.
I run to catch her, shoving my test at Brother Clark as I pass. “Wait up,” I call after her. Already halfway down the hall, she stops, and I close the distance between us. “Are you okay?” I ask.
With her back to me, she wraps her arms around herself, clutching the lapels of her favorite pink coat. “No.”
My heart stutters when she turns to face me. Her eyes are puffy and red rimmed. I yearn to hold her in my arms and reassure her that everything is going to be okay. But we aren’t there yet. First I have to make her see how this will work. Resisting the urge to reach out to her, I stuff my hands in my pockets. “I should have told you sooner,” I say. “It wasn’t fair of me not to say anything, but will you let me explain?”
Her eyes search my face, and I hate myself for being the cause of the pain reflected in them. Finally, she nods.
“When I first moved here to take care of Mom, I didn’t understand Mormon culture. I tried again and again to make friends and to date, but as soon as anyone found out I wasn’t Mormon and that I had no interest in joining the Church, they disappeared.”
Water pools in Emmy’s eyes, and she lifts her chin, refusing to let the tears fall.
“But you were different. You got to know me for me and not for what religion I wrote on my application. I convinced myself that you were my study partner and my religion wasn’t your business. But then I got to know you, and no matter how hard I tried not to fall for you, one thing led to the next, and—”
“It was too late,” she finishes.
“Yeah.”
“I understand, Rhys. Really, I do. I know you only wanted to be accepted for who you are. I’m not mad about that—”
“But you are mad.”
“I’m hurt. And confused.” Her chin quivers. “I don’t know what to do.”
I grab her hands and bend slightly to look into her eyes. “I know it will take time for you to trust me again—”
“This isn’t about trust,” she cuts me off. “I mean it is, but there’s so much more to it than that.”
“I know.” And I do. But I also know the way I feel isn’t like anything I’ve ever felt before, and I’m not walking away without a fight. “Emmy.” I press her hand to my chest so she can feel my racing heart. “I know I messed up. Big-time. But we have something amazing. Something that doesn’t come around often.”
“I think so too, but—”
“I meant what I said last night.” I release her hand and place a finger under her chin, encouraging her to look at me. “I’m in love with you, Emmy. Tell me you don’t feel the same, and I’ll walk away.”
She presses her eyes shut and drops her head to her chest. “I do love you, but—”
“All I’m asking for is a chance. To see what this can be. Will you give it to me?”