“I’m not going to deny it anymore.”

“I forgive you, Kipton. I wish I could forget. But it all stays inside me no matter how hard I try to forget about it.”

“I’m not asking you to forget anything, but I want you to know you have me to lean on. I’m not going anywhere, Sophie. No matter how much you push when you’re in doubt, I’ll push back harder.”

“Kipton, I don’t know what to do with all of this. My head feels so jumbled up every minute of the day.” I suck in a breath, unable to get rid of the tightening in my chest as I teeter over the edge of a panic attack. “I can’t figure you out.” Without further warning, the dam breaks. I reach out for him as my tears soak my cheeks. I’m not supposed to cry, but it’s no longer up to me.

“Come here, beautiful.” I cling to his warmth as I continue to sob. I’ve never experienced anger out of love. It’s such a foreign concept. But if it’s possible, then maybe he’s my safety from myself. “Please don’t cry. You have me now.”

I choke on a sob, but let out every ounce of anger, pain, grief, and sadness that’s strangling my sanity. Kipton wants me and I need him. Because when I’m in his arms, I feel stronger. Strong enough to fight another day.

“Let me love you, Sophie,” he whispers in my ear.

“How, Kipton?”

“I’ll show you—everyday.”

KIPTON’S HELD TRUE TO HIS word which is another thing I’ve had to get used to—someone making a promise and actually keeping it. My dad used to promise my mom he would change, or tell her he would work on his laundry list of flaws, but he never did. Over time, he only became bitter and resentful of the woman who was trying to change him instead of accepting him for the man that he was. I use the term man lightly, because my father loved alcohol more than his own family. Whether he was at the bar until early morning, or getting caught in the back seat of his car with some bar whore, my mom always knew. She didn’t have to see it first hand to know the rumors swirling around town were true.

One night when the arguing became too much to bare, I sat outside on the roof next to my bedroom window and made a pact with myself to never settle in love. I’d rather be alone than in a loveless relationship like theirs. I remember leaning my head against the siding of the house, as I searched the sky for the star that sparkled the most. I begged that star to grant me my one wish—to give me the power to be strong enough to survive this life on my own and without regret. From that night onward, I let the happiness my ex stole from me and the pain of my parents arguing dissolve—instead becoming peacefully numb. I stopped making myself physically sick, but mentally, I wasn’t any better. Who knows, maybe I was never truly living, rather only existing in my day-to-day life. Either way, it was much easier to look forward to tomorrow when it wasn’t already lacking hope before the sun ever rose.

My plan worked for a while with the numbness never wavering. That was until Kipton came into my life, but it wasn’t just him that sent me spiraling. It was all the changes and the pressure of living up to expectations I wasn’t sure I deserved. My mind was constantly at war with my body, warning me what would happen if I ever messed up—and did I ever. Between the concussion and giving myself to Kipton, I was afraid to get emotionally attached. And as expected, when love was thrown into the mix, I started to drown.

But Kipton’s shown me over the past three weeks just how hard he can love. Whether it’s his text messages or in every kiss, he’s been incredible. I try to stay in the present, but living in the moment isn’t easy. Connecting with my emotions brings painful memories to the surface—ones I’ve worked hard to deny ever existed. But Kipton’s reminded me the benefits of an optimistic attitude. Without dwelling on the negative, I’m no longer waiting for the fear to chase away my happiness.

As I sit here in astronomy lab revived and happy, it’s tough to stay focused on my assignment. My mind easily tempts me with a vivid play-by-play of my planetarium tryst with Kipton. Squirming around on my chair, I can’t dull the ache inside of me.

As I continue to estimate star locations in the sky, a piece of paper lands on my notebook. Quickly snatching it before the professor notices, I smile as soon as I read the words. Apparently, we’re on the same wavelength.

Wanna go make a new memory in the planetarium?

Giggling, I look up and find Kipton gazing over his shoulder. He winks and my stomach flutters in response with hyper butterflies ready to take flight. Mouthing the words, behave, I jump when I realize Oliver is taking in our entire exchange. “Boyfriend amusing you?” He asks, with his glasses balancing on the tip of his nose. I have the urge to push them back up on his face so they don’t fall off, but he eventually stops staring at me long enough to adjust them on his own.

“Um, yeah. Sorry.”

“That’s a shame.”

As I erase a mistake on my paper, I whisper, “Why’s that a shame?”

“Because I have a lot to offer a lady, too. When you requested to be my partner I figured you were hot for me. I’ve noticed you sneaking glances at me during class.”

Snorting, I stifle my laughter with a couple of coughs. Kipton turns around to make sure I’m okay. I give him the thumbs up and he shakes his head before going back to work. His lab partner spends most of the class popping bubbles and twirling her hair. Kipton says she smells like a mixture of cotton candy and cat urine. The thought of him animatedly describing her to me has me laughing all over again. I rest my head on the table as my shoulders shake. We’re dismissed during my laughter fit, but I can’t stop laughing. “What are you doing, beautiful?”

I lift my head to see everyone filing out of the classroom. “Sorry. I’m good.”

“Don’t apologize, I could watch you laugh all day. But Oliver ran out of here like the place was on fire.”

“He thinks I want him.”

Kipton chuckles and tucks my notebook inside my bag for me. “Poor guy.”

He and I walk hand in hand back to my dorm. I tighten my sweater around my middle, the fall weather’s been intensifying the closer we get to the holiday break. He pulls me close to his body to shield me from the wind while my hair whips around my face like I’m stuck in a tornado. I insisted we walk to class today, but I’m wishing we could hop into Kipton’s warm car instead. I also don’t miss the fact that he hasn’t said a word to me since we left class. “You’re quiet Kipton, what’s up?” I don’t like quiet, it makes me anxious.

At first he doesn’t answer, but then changes his mind. “I didn’t want to pry, but how have your sessions been going? You haven’t said a word about them since you started.”

“They’re okay. Michelle is nice. She’s easier to talk to than my therapist back home.”

As promised, I’ve been seeing a counselor on campus. Being diagnosed as a depressive bulimic was hard the first time, but hearing it from Michelle put a whole new spin on how out of touch I’ve been with reality and my body. I may have thought I was recovered before I came to Alabama, but it never really goes away—I’ll always have the compulsions inside of me.

It’s helped to sort through my past, turning every tiny detail into a valid observation of what led me down this path in the first place. Eventually we started relating it to my present by working through the years I’ve been depressed. It was clear to see how anxiety driven I really am. There are very few things I don’t fear. Between the mental mind fucks and the physical abuse, I’ve used purging as a crutch to simply survive.