Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 135522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
“I, uh … oh …” I blink as I stare at my forearm. It’s not blood. How can it be blood? We totally didn’t hit the ground that hard, right? “That looks, uh … very red.”
Noah gazes at my face. “You look very pale.”
I peel my eyes away. I see two of him standing in front of me. Two Noahs. “I look very … what …?” I ask, confused.
Noah’s face reflects worry—both his faces. “Are you … Are you afraid of blood, Cole?”
Just the word sends an unconscious part of me into a panic, some part I can’t control. Even still, I ignore it with all of my might as best as I can. “No way. What’d make you think that? I’m dandy! Aren’t you dandy? I am quite relieved the fall didn’t pancake you.”
“You look clammy,” says Noah quietly. “Are you okay?”
“I’m great, there’s nothing to worry about, wow, this stings,” I say all in the same breath—then make the mistake of gazing down at my arm again. It’s a whole lot of red. Like, a lot-a lot.
“Your wound looks quite severe,” notes Noah, and suddenly he becomes Dr. Chatterbox. “I think you need to get it bandaged up so it doesn’t develop cellulitis. If left untreated, bacteria can easily spread to your bloodstream or other parts of your body … or even worse, it could become necrotizing fasciitis.”
I stare at Noah, unsure whether to be impressed or terrified. Is it a weird time to point out that the bigger the words he uses, the more adorable I find him? “N-Necromancer what?”
“Commonly known as the flesh-eating disease. Sorry. I … read too much. I’m not a licensed professional. Just a weirdo with too much free time on his hands. You look even paler now. I … think I may not be helping your situation. You really are afraid of blood.”
I keep my eyes glued to Noah. “I’m afraid of nothing.” My voice went really high. I’m trying hard not to glance at my arm again. Crap, I just did. “Oh. God. I might pass out.”
Suddenly there are other people next to us. “I’m so sorry!” It’s a lady whose name completely escapes me at the moment. “This is all my fault! My stupid husband, I told him not to stack them so high, but then he—”
“What’re you talkin’ about?” comes a man’s voice. “It wasn’t our fault, don’t go takin’ liability all loosey-goosey like that! It was Kirk and Bonnie’s kid, Kirkland Junior! He’s been runnin’ around the whole festival with his friends like it’s their playground! I saw that little rascal ram into our table!”
“But if we hadn’t stacked the frames so high …”
“Honey, it was that dang kid!”
I don’t know what comes over me. I take hold of Noah by his arm and pull him close, too close, our faces nearly together, and I stare right into his eyes. “Do you mind if I just do this?” I ask him. “If I only look at you, I won’t be tempted to look at my arm.”
His eyes grow double. Somehow, they still look little and cute, even when stretched wide open.
“It’s a long story,” I ramble nervously on. “My blood thing. Embarrassing. Has to do with an … ‘accident’ that happened when I was little. Or at least I think that’s where it comes from. I’m not sure. Is it really as bad as you said? Am I gonna get a flesh-eating disease? Never mind, don’t answer that. Just stay here with me.”
He seems to oblige me by not saying anything at all. He does not indicate whether he minds me clinging to him with our eyes in such an uncomfortably close proximity. I don’t know if my idea is working, but I just realized I can’t hear any of the bickering and chatter of the excitable crowd around us. I don’t even know if the husband and wife are still arguing over who’s at fault. All I see is Noah in front of me. All I know is the drumming of my heart.
And how that drumming is gently slowing down.
A sense of calmness enters me. Is it through Noah’s soft eyes that I feel this peace? Or the touch of my hand on his soft arm as I hold him close? What can I thank for this much-needed serenity?
My idea is working. It’s totally, completely working.
Also, I really, really want to kiss him right now.
I smile into Noah’s eyes, my heart fluttering happily. “Thank you,” I say sincerely—before all the blood drains from my face, my eyes rock back, and I slump against Noah’s stiff body, sliding like a sack of Blow Pops to the ground.
Chapter 3
Noah
It’s possible that I haven’t blinked once since the incident.
Debatable whether I’ve even breathed.
I’m just sitting here in a booth at Biggie’s Bites, sipping from a glass of water Mrs. Tucker kindly brought me, silent as a stump of wood. I no longer have a crowd of people staring at me and asking me all sorts of questions. I’m just sitting here alone by the window staring outside as the festival carries blithely on like nothing at all happened. Maybe nothing much did.