Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 124135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 621(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 621(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
But now it was open.
It was wide open.
“What type?” She stopped, and her feet met mine. She was so close. The smell of her peach and vanilla perfume drifted up my nose, and I could feel the sweet taste on my tongue. Everything was more around her. My senses were so overwhelmed that I almost couldn’t breathe. I saw color and fireworks. Tasted sweetness, smelled her scent, and breathed in who she was. It was lines and shapes and tones and colors, metallic and mattes. It all slammed into me like a flood. And I let it in. Like a dam bursting, I let her in.
I gasped at the force of the emotions. “Cromwell?” Bonnie took hold of my arm. I froze, looking down at her hand on me. She went to pull it back. But I reached out and covered her fingers with my own.
Bonnie stilled. Her eyes fell from my face to our hands. I waited for her to pull away, but she didn’t. I heard her labored breathing. I saw her chest rise and fall. She blinked, her long, black lashes hiding what I knew would be huge, shocked brown eyes.
I’d finally let her in.
“Chromesthesia,” I said. Bonnie looked up, her eyebrows drawn together in confusion. I inhaled through my nose and resigned myself to admitting it. “The type of synesthesia I have. Mainly chromesthesia.”
“You see sound.” A small smile pulled on her lips. “You see color when music plays.” I nodded. A quick breath left her mouth. “What else?”
“Hmm?”
“You said it was mainly chromesthesia. What else happens to you? I didn’t know you can have more than one type.”
“I don’t know much about it all,” I admitted. “I have it. Apart from what my da—” I swallowed and forced myself to keep going. “Apart from what my dad told me when he researched it, that’s all I know.” I shrugged. “It’s normal for me. It’s everyday life.”
Bonnie was staring at me like she’d never seen me before. “I’ve read so much about it,” she said. “But I’ve never met anyone with it.” Her fingers tightened on mine. I’d forgotten I was even holding her hand. I looked at the entwined fingers. Something calmed in me. It always did around her. The constant anger inside me faded to almost nothing. It only ever happened with Bonnie. “Your senses mix together, hearing and sight and taste.” She shook her head. “It’s incredible.”
“Yeah.”
“And my bridge was navy blue?” I nodded. “Why?” she asked, sounding almost breathless, she was trying to talk so fast. “How?”
“Come with me.” I started leading Bonnie by the hand through the park. She followed. I didn’t know if she would. If she’d forgiven me for hurting her this past week.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
When she lagged behind, I slowed. She didn’t move any faster. Her breath was coming in pants. I stared at her flushed face and damp forehead. Reaching over her, I took the guitar from her hand.
Red burst on her cheeks. “You okay?” I asked. I had no idea why she was so out of breath.
She pushed some fallen hair from her face. “Just unfit.” She laughed, but it sounded off to my ears. It wasn’t pink. “Need to start on some cardio.”
I kept a slow pace as Bonnie walked beside me. I kept waiting for her to pull her hand away, but she didn’t. I liked holding her hand.
I was holding a girl’s hand.
I kept holding on.
When we arrived at the music department, I could feel the air thicken around us. I paused at the door.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
I gripped the guitar tighter, then finally pulled my hand from hers so I could get out my ID to swipe us inside. My jaw was clenched when I pulled away. Bonnie’s eyes were wide on mine, and I knew why I’d hesitated.
I hadn’t wanted to let her go.
It sounded like there were a couple of people in the building. Lines of crimson red floated in front of my eyes as an oboe played in one of the rooms. Bonnie looked up at me, lips parted, about to say something.
“Crimson-red lines.”
Bonnie stopped dead. “How did you know I was going to ask that?”
I stared down at her face. She had freckles on her nose and cheeks. I hadn’t noticed them before. Her nose was small, but her eyes and lips were big. Her lashes were the longest I’d ever seen.
“Cromwell?” Bonnie’s voice was hoarse. I realized I’d been staring. My pulse had kicked up a notch, and I could feel my heartbeat thumping in my chest. The beats brought me strobing flashes of sunset orange.
“You have freckles.”
Bonnie stared at me, not moving and not making a sound. But then her face reddened. I opened the door to the practice room and walked through. I turned on the light and put down her guitar.