Beneath the Surface Read Online Free

or shook your head, but I could tell you weren’t listening to me. Immediately my guard rose up in defence, and I cursed myself for foolishly trusting in us and letting you into my heart. I pulled my leg away so your hand fell into the space between us and hugged my arms around my knees.
    ‘What’s wrong?’ you asked.
    ‘What’s wrong with me?’ I snapped. ‘Nothing! Look, maybe I should just go. I’ve got an early morning.’
    I had at last heard back from an advertising company I had sent an application to, and they were interviewing me the next morning for an assistant account manager position. I had a sudden desire to get out of the flat – I thought I knew what was coming and I didn’t want to hear it.
    You sighed and hung your head back against the sofa, closing your eyes as you did so.
    ‘Don’t worry, Adam,’ I said. ‘I get the picture.’
    You had met someone else. Or maybe you just realised you could do better than me, or you were bored or … There were too many possibilities and maybe I was overreacting, but I was so scared you were about to break my heart and leave me.
    At this you opened your eyes and sat up straight.
    ‘What are you taking about?’
    But I didn’t answer; instead I just focused on gathering up my bag and shoes and trying to get myself out of the flat.
    ‘Abi,’ you grabbed me. ‘Why are you suddenly leaving? Look, I don’t know what you’re thinking but whatever it is, I think you’ve got it wrong.’
    ‘Then tell me why you’re being like this with me,’ I said. I could feel the tears stinging the backs of my eyes and I knew it wouldn’t take much for them to well up.
    ‘I’ve been thinking about things,’ you said. ‘About us, and where we’re going. And I really love you, Abi. I want to be with you for the rest of my life, but there are things I want to know.’
    I could have laughed: you had just said you loved me and you wanted to be with me.
    ‘What do you want to know?’ I asked, but by then I didn’t really care what it was.
    ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ you sighed. ‘I guess sometimes I feel that I don’t really know you. You can be such a closed book.’
    ‘That’s not true.’
    ‘Yes, it is. We talk about stuff all the time, what we ate for breakfast, what’s on the TV, who said what at work, but nothing important. Nothing that means anything. Every time I try, you change the subject.’
    ‘I don’t,’ I whispered back, but of course you were right.
    ‘Yes, Abi, you do. The other day I told you my parents wanted us to go to Scotland so they could finally meet you and you said, “Maybe you should go on your own, I’m sure it’s you they want to see.” I ask you what you want to do in life, and you shrug my question away and say, “I’ll do whatever I end up doing.” I haven’t asked about your family after you very definitely told me you never wanted to talk about them. I don’t know what to do, Abs. I really like you but I feel like for whatever reason you don’t want me getting close to you.’
    It was the first time anyone had pressed me on it. Probably no one had wanted to get close to me before and so they hadn’t bothered pursuing why they couldn’t. I felt that familiar burn under my skin and hadn’t realised I was scratching at it until you grabbed hold of my arm. Now I was thinking of my mother and I so did not want to be. She had no place coming between us, and I was annoyed she was edging her way in. I pulled my arm away.
    ‘I just want to know who you are,’ you continued. ‘I want to know everything about you, even the not-so-good bits.’
    The room was closing in on me and I needed to get out, but you were holding onto me again and I could feel myself letting you pull me back.
Don’t put yourself through this, Abi
, I was thinking
. Don’t let him open up your heart because you don’t know what might drop out of it.
But at the same time I wanted to tell you. Maybe you should know who I am. I let you pull me