I'm standing before my kitchen island, rearranging my notes from Chemistry, when I feel a presence behind me.
"Hey sweetie," Carson says, wrapping his arms around my waist. I stiffen, but force myself to relax, letting out a slow and steady breath.
"Hey," I say back, my voice surprisingly steady. I hadn't heard him open the door to my house, and his presence perturbs me. I hadn't told him I was coming straight home after school. I can feel him kiss my neck, making me shiver slightly, and I know I have to stop him now, if I ever want to get him to listen.
"No, Carson. Not now," I say, and I feel him tense up, his arms feeling more and more like a cage. I turn in his arms, facing him. His gray eyes stare down at me, reminding me of an overcast day. I want to back down already, but I order myself to stay strong. I made Beck a promise, and I intend to see in through.
"I think we need to talk."
The words hang around us, and the atmosphere becomes tense all at once. For a split second I see nervousness in his eyes. Can he guess what I'm about to tell him? He must. But then the nervousness is gone, almost as quickly as it came.
"Talk? Why would I want to talk when I can just kiss you?" He leans down and manages to plant his lips on mine before I move my face away.
"Tori, what the hell?!" He snaps, releasing me roughly. I fight the urge to apologize and instead say, point blank, "I'm breaking up with you."
The silence is louder than anything I've ever heard in my life. I didn't want to say it so soon. I was planning to work my way up to it, to make it easier for him to digest. He stares at me, his gaze slowly turning into a dangerous glare. His lips twist into a bitter sneer, and he lets out a bark of laughter.
"We're not breaking up," he says, turning his back on me.
"Carson, I'm sorry. But I can't do this any more."
Carson stops and turns back to look at me, his eyes narrowed, a vein throbbing visibly on his neck. He points a finger at me, and says, "You gonna keep doing 'this' until I tell you too, okay? You have no say in the matter."
I flinch, but I refuse to stand down. It takes everything I have, but I stay where I am.
"Carson, I think you should leave."
Before I can tell what's happening, I feel myself go backwards, knocking into the kitchen island. The right side of my face stings. Warmth floods that part of my face, and my eyes fill with unshed tears. It takes me a moment to re-focus, but when I do, I can see him standing before me, flexing his fingers.
"I'm not going anywhere."
"What happened to your face, baby?"
My mother is staring at me, waiting for my answer. I keep my gaze down, staring intently at the tomato I'm cutting. She joins me in the kitchen, reaching around me to get the lettuce for the salad I'm making.
"Oh, it's nothing. We were practicing this fight scene in Sikowitz's class, and...my acting partner accidently hit me."
"What? Again? Tori, this is the third time in three weeks. I'm not sure I'm comfortable with you acting out these fight scenes if you're just gonna get hurt. I mean, aren't they supposed to be fake?"
"Mom!" I put down the knife and finally look at her, exasperated. She looks up at me too, her eyes wide, her mouth open in a little 'o'. "It's fine! It's just a little bruise, okay? It happened in school, but it's fine now."
My mother looks at me, slightly alarmed, not saying a word. I pick up the knife again and finish cutting the tomatoes, placing them in a bowl with the rest of the vegetables. Eventually, she resumes cutting the lettuce, glancing up at me every once in a while. "Okay. I was just worried, honey. You seem so...different lately. I'm your mother, Tori. I have a right to be worried."
She finishes up the lettuce and I put it in the bowl, taking the tongs and tossing the salad.
"I know," I whisper, not meeting her eyes. You'd think that as an actor, I'd be able to look my mother in the eyes while I fabricate my stories. I finish up the salad, then put it to the side. I can feel her gaze on me. She's waiting for reassurances, I can tell. I can't paste a smile on my face and act like a peppy cheerleader, the way she seems to want me to. But I can give her a little peace of mind.
"I'm fine. Everything's fine, Mom. Don't worry."
The lies taste bitter in my mouth, but I swallow down and continue to cook.
