Page 27 of Falling For Alaska

"Running?" I echo, blinking. "Oh. Y-yeah. It did, actually."

She runs her fingers in her hair. "Good."

"I, uh, found a few good trails in the forest. Some nice spots. I’ll probably go back once the wind dies down." I lean in a little, remembering the upcoming storm. "Are you, um, are you ready for the storm? Everyone’s been talking about it."

Her brow arches, unconcerned. "It’s in a week. I’ve got time to prepare. Besides, I can always drive to my parents’ if it gets bad."

"Do you have f-flashlights? A generator?" I ask, maybe more sharply than I mean to. The instinct to protect her taking over me. "If the roads get blocked, you won’t be able to get to them. Trees fall, p-power goes out... It happens fast."

I sound like an overbearing husband.

Only she’s not my wife and she’s not mine.

She gives me a half-smile. "It’s not the apocalypse. It’s just a storm. We get plenty here."

"Jared said this one’s gonna be b-bad. Curfews. Evacuations, maybe."

"Oh." She frowns, probably realising the seriousness of it.

"I’ll be out there helping," I say, then lower my voice. "But I...I don’t want to know you’re alone if anything h-h-happens." Her hand shifts slightly. A few centimeters. Her fingers graze mine on the desk, and my breath catches.

The touch is feather-light.

But it’s there.

"...I'd hate myself knowing you…you g-got hurt," I murmur. I could pull back. Pretend it didn’t happen. My gaze flicks to hers, searching for discomfort, fear, anything that tells me to back off. Yet all I see is that blue, wide, unguarded look. Our fingers still barely touch, breathing each other in. The room goes still. Only the hum of the computer tower fills the room.

"Thank you," she says, barely audible. "For worrying about me." Her eyes search for mine, and I swear she’s asking me something without saying a word. And at that moment, I know with certainty that I had it right.

Alaska and I do speak the same language.

Alaska

There are moments in life when you know you’re about to step into the unknown. Your heart hammers, your breath turns shallow, and still, you go through with it. You step into the darkness, knowing all too well that no good will come out of it but sorrow and despair. Like a porcelain doll waiting to be broken, you carry on, both feet into the one thing you know you shouldn’t indulge, because the beating organ inside your chest is craving it more than life itself.

The touch.

The feeling.

The fire burning your skin in such a delicious way.

Coming here today was a mistake, but what a sweet, slippery slope. What’s hidden in my mind, in the dark corners that no one should ever explore, will be my downfall. My ticket for a lifetime of rejection and fingers pointed at me.

This, or a one-way ticket to an asylum.

I shouldn’t do this, not because I’m not good enough, but because no one deserves that. Jack’s a good man, kind, attentive. He listened to me as if I mattered, as if he was longing to hear more of my voice, of my stories. What will happen when he learns the truth of what happened six years ago? When he knows what a despicable human being I am? There’s no logic, no rational reason to do what I’m doing right now. Brushing his fingers like I’m not craving to stand, circle this wooden desk, sit on his lap, and ask him to hold me tight, so tight it’ll hurt. Only the burn would be good. In another reality, I’d do that. And it would be warm. It wouldn’t hurt.

“I…” I mutter in one breath. “I should go.” And just as our fingers caress each other, longing for more of his touch, I bring my hand back to my side like I’ve been burned and bite my lip until the tang of blood fills my mouth.

“Alaska, w-wait,” he pleads, standing after I do, while I awkwardly look around me as if I’ve forgotten something here. I leave like a thief, like a mad girl, which is what I am. Jack seems to think his stutter is an anomaly, but I barely hear it.

I’m the anomaly.

And he’s…he’s the one who could find a way to my heart and pull the trigger on it once and for all. His footsteps follow me to the exit, but he doesn’t stop me; his voice only calls my name like an echo fading as I go.

“Alaska?” I hear him ask, but I’ve already passed the front desk and the exit door, my chest heaving as my ears plug with the sound of chunks of ice knocking against each other, tingles freezing my scars and bringing me back to the day that changed my life forever. I swore to myself that I wouldn’t live anymore. I had every intention to stay like this, dead inside, like a corpse that would never have a chance to be revived. And life had to put Jack in my way.

I slide into my car, the wheel facing the front of the station, where Jack is standing, watching me, his arms at his sides, helpless, with furrowed brows and a clenched jaw. His silhouette shrinks in the rearview mirror until it disappears entirely. I drive for half an hour, in the opposite direction from my house. I drive until I can’t differentiate where I’m heading, until I don’t even know where I am. Nothing can stop my thoughts from racing.