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“Both, I guess. ” There’s no way I can tell him the only boy I’ve ever been remotely interested in kissing is sitting right across from me.
Bishop opens his mouth to say something else, but I get there before him. “You said one question, remember?” I remind him. “Truth or dare?”
“I would say dare, but I’m scared you’ll make me strip naked and run around squawking like a chicken or something. ”
I’m in the middle of taking a drink, and water threatens to burst out of my mouth. “Those are the kinds of dares you got at camp?”
Bishop shrugs. “Pretty much. We were thirteen, after all. ”
“So another truth?”
“It’s probably safer. ”
Hah. Safer. I take a second to think about what I want to know. There are so many things. From the important—what he really thinks about the arranged marriages, how he feels about me, what he dreams of doing with his life—to the mundane—his favorite color, favorite food, how he gets his hair so soft. Stupid, pointless questions. “What was it like growing up in your house?” I ask finally because no matter how hard I try, I can’t imagine Bishop roaming those dark hallways. Maybe being raised in that house is why he loves the outdoors so much, forever chasing sunlight through the trees.
“Lonely,” he says without pause. My heart clenches. Not because I pity him, but because I understand. I have a sister, but I’ve been lonely my whole life.
“My father is always busy, always focused outward, on what’s happening to Westfall. And my mother is…” He runs a hand through his hair. “Difficult. I think she hoped I could fix something that’s missing between her and my dad and when I couldn’t…” His voice trails off, tired and sad. “I’m sure she loves me, but I’ve never felt it. Which is hell on a kid, you know? You’re constantly trying to earn love, instead of simply having it. It used to make me angry when I was younger, until I realized that didn’t change anything. Eventually, I just stopped trying. ”
“Yeah, I know,” I say. I wish he would teach me the trick of stopping. Instead, I’m caught on the endless loop of needing my father’s affection but not wanting to do what’s required to earn it.
Bishop stares at me, and something is happening between us, something swirling and forming in the still, humid air. I’m terrified of it, of him, but I can’t bring myself to run from it this time, either.
“Truth,” I whisper, because I don’t trust my voice.
“Were you scared of me that first night?” Bishop asks. His question surprises me, as does the wrinkling of his brow, the seriousness in his eyes.
“Yes. ” There’s no point in lying about it.
A shadow floats across his face. “I wouldn’t have…I wouldn’t have touched you, Ivy. Forced you. ”
“I know that,” I say. “Now. ”
“I wasn’t ready for that, either,” he says. And now it’s his turn to look uncomfortable, his cheeks flushed in the semi-dark. I’ve never seen him unsure before, this boy who is always so self-contained. “Just because I’m a guy doesn’t mean…” He looks down at the floor. “Are you still scared of me?”
I swallow. It feels like I have a rock stuck in my throat, jagged and sharp. “No,” I say. Which isn’t exactly the truth. I’m not scared anymore that he’ll touch me. I’m scared because I want him to.
His eyes are dark in the candlelight and they burn into mine. I think he might lean forward and close the distance between us. I don’t know whether that’s my prayer or my fear. Electricity crackles in the air around us, but he doesn’t move.
“I think it’s my turn,” he says. His voice is deep and rough, like he, too, has something snagged in his windpipe. “Truth. ”
“Again?” I try to smile, but it’s a wobbly effort at best. “We’re not much for dares, are we?”
“The truth is more interesting,” he says. “Anybody can do a naked chicken dance. ”
“Why did you pick me instead of my sister?” I hadn’t realized how much that question had been nagging at me until I finally asked it.
Bishop gives a wry grin. “I’m surprised it took you this long to ask me. ”
I cross my arms over my chest like armor. “Well?”
“My mom volunteers at the hospital. A couple of days a week. Helping out wherever she’s needed. ” I must look annoyed because he holds up one palm and says, “Bear with me. It’s relevant to the story, I promise. ”
I make a rolling motion with my hand, go on, and he smiles. “I used to go with her sometimes, especially when I was younger. One day when I was about fourteen, I was spending the morning there with her. The doors opened and I couldn’t really tell what was happening, but I could hear a commotion. Someone crying, someone yelling, calling for a doctor. I looked over and I saw a girl about my age with long, dark hair yelling for help. And one of the nurses tapped me on the shoulder and said, ‘That’s the girl you’re going to marry someday. Callie Westfall. ’”
I feel a pain in my chest at his words. I hate the thought of him marrying my sister. She wouldn’t be right for him. She wouldn’t understand him. She wouldn’t bother to try.
Bishop pulls one leg up and balances his forearm across his bent knee. “I remember staring at her, trying to picture my entire future with her. And then she stepped to the side and there was another girl, younger, with waves of honey-colored hair and huge gray eyes. ” His mouth curls up at the edges, but his eyes are solemn. “Her face was streaked with tears and blood was running down her torn-up arm. ” His eyes skip to my scarred forearm.
“Me,” I breathe, although of course it was me, who else would it have been?
“You,” Bishop says. The word spins out into the air like a promise. Like something I can hold on to if I just have the courage to catch it. “I’m not going to lie and say it was love at first sight,” he continues. “But it was fascination. You were hurt. You were frightened. But you were still defiant. Your eyes flashed when you talked about that dog. Your face showed exactly what you were feeling, but what you were feeling was unexpected. Like on the day we got married and you shrank away from me. ” He gives me a small smile. “With clenched fists. ” Bishop stares at me, his gaze drifting over my face. “If I had to get married, I wanted to marry someone who I was interested in knowing. You’re easy to read, Ivy, but the whole book of you is complicated. That’s why I wanted you instead of your sister. ”
My stomach has turned itself inside out. My heart is breaking, but all its millions of shattered pieces are soaring. I can’t breathe, but I can still feel, every nerve ending in my body set on high alert. If he touched me now, I might disintegrate. Or fly to the stars.
“You fascinated me that day,” Bishop says quietly. “And you still do. ”
All my life, that damn dog bite has been the one thing I wished I could do over, had some self-control and not ended up bitten, forever marked with a sign of my impulsiveness. Those silvery scars a constant reminder of what a disappointment I have the potential to be. But Bishop sees them as something else entirely. A badge of honor. Evidence of my strength. A source of fascination. He doesn’t condemn my recklessness or my inability to hide my emotions. My worst personality traits transformed into my best.