The Lonely Read Online Free

it.
I finish rubbing but don’t move. My lip is trembling. I'm begging, pleading
with myself not to choke up or freak out completely. I'm not too worried the
tears leaving my eyes, just flooding them. I don’t cry. My tears always find
their way to my eyes, but they never actually make it out. Instead, they make
kaleidoscopes and change everything for me.
    He
doesn’t even know me and I've revealed something so horrid. If he knew the
rest, he would leave.
    I
am seconds from pulling out the phone and sending the message for the car to
come. I don’t know if my legs can walk back to the dorm. They have the cement
boot feeling. The thick feeling they get. It's coming. It always does.
    His
huge hand reaches over and takes the sanitizer like it’s dangerous. He squirts
some on his hands and bathes them in it. He hands it back. But now that he's
touched it I have to do it again. It's insanity but it's my insanity. I bathe
in it a second time and put it away. He takes my hand in his and walks me
silently down the busy road.
"I'm so sorry." He finally speaks, his voice is traumatized.
    Don’t
cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. The tears are there in my throat. They are
threatening me. I almost believe they will go to my eyes
    "I
should have guessed. You cleaned that treadmill like it was your job." He
laughs. He is smiling. I can hear it in his voice.
    I
glance up, "I get it if you want to run away."
    He
grins, "What? I have the cleanest date in town now. I've never felt so
safe in all my life." He points with his free hand and I notice we are
still holding hands, "I know a quiet place down the road. Very clean.
Owner has OCD, so the service is slow but the place is immaculate."
    "Okay."
The warmth of his hand is nice. It makes the lonely go away. He's the cure. I
sigh. Quietly.
    He
pulls me into pace with him. "So is it as bad as Howie Mandel's?"
    I
snort, "It's not what you think. I'm not a germaphobe."
    He
looks confused, "You are so."
    I
shake my head, "I don’t do it because I care about the germs. I was raised
to be clean." I don’t tell him that I've spent my lifetime trying to clean
something up.
    He
makes a face, "Oh, those scary cult families where you get scrubbed with
boiling water like Mommy Dearest?"
    I
laugh, "Something like that." The similarities are disturbing.
    He
shrugs, "My uncle Frank is a surgeon. I get it. He went through a vodka
phase once. He had bottles of it in every bathroom and we had to wash our hands
with it." He steals a glance down at me, "The crowds are hard too.
New Mexico is probably pretty quiet. Boston's not exactly quiet."
    "What
kind of surgeon." We need to talk about him.
    "Orthopedic."
    "Wow."
    He
doesn’t sound interested, "Yeah."
    "You
taking medicine then? Keeping it in the family?"
    He
looks down at me laughing like I'm missing something, "No." His eyes
are filled with a touch of something intense, but it's too far beneath the
surface for me to see it. "I'm in business. What about you?"
    "Journalism
is what I want to do. I ran the paper at my high school. We did a lot of earth
sciences pieces. Trying to be proactive about the environment. But I'm a
freshman, so we'll see."
    The
Town Car pulls up as we round a corner. Stuart climbs out of the car he parks
illegally, "You said you were going to Chicken Lou's." He looks
pissed. His dark eyes are stormy. Shell is right, he's hot. Especially angry.
Yowza.
    I
don’t want to explain the car or the driver to Sebastian. I scowl and shout
across the street like a psycho, "Go home! I thought you were on a
date!"
    "Had
to end it early." He's speaking through his teeth.
    I
roll my eyes, "The chicken place was too busy. Huge crowd." I pray he
gets it without me having to explain.
    Sebastian
looks down at me, "Is that your driver?"
    I
laugh. It's nervous and I shake my head, "No. God no. Stuart, this is
Sebastian. Stuart is a friend of my…uhm…family's. He's like a
big…older…annoying brother."
    Stuart
looks less than