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 meet her eyes.
I wonder if some part of me does remember.
Even if I can’t picture it. Even if I can’t describe anything I did or said during my alleged countless times here. Like Cole’s fear of blood, some unconscious part of me recalls the kind look in Cole’s mother’s eyes, the same look she’s giving me right now.
Some part of me remembers the other boy in the yard. Cole.
Some part of me remembers the fear, the awkwardness, not knowing what to say or do with the other boy.
Some part of me knew Cole.
“I like your son a lot, Mrs. Harding. I … I really like him.”
“I know.” Her smile grows. “You know my bedroom window faces the backyard, don’t you? The big one, right over there by the Mexican petunias. I saw you guys getting cozy out there on that blanket. Anthony lying there like a stump. Porridge, too. I’ll tell you, Noah … I have never seen Cole smile so big when he looks at another person. There is something true between you two.”
I am glued to her every word.
Nearly hovering over the table, listening, drinking her words instead of the water in front of me.
“Please treat him right, will you?”
After a moment, I break from my trance, take the last sip, and give her a small nod. I try to thank her, though I’m not sure any sound actually comes out.
A noise from behind makes me turn. Cole’s dad stands at their bedroom door. “Honey?” he says softly through the dark.
Mrs. Harding sighs. “I’m heading back to bed in a bit, Robert.”
“Oh.” He seems to just now notice me. He gives me a brief nod of acknowledgement, appears awkward for a second, then shuffles his way back to their bedroom. He stops at the door to peer over at me once more. “Nice to see you, Noah. Sorry about … uh, earlier.” Then he heads back inside.
“Finished with your water?” asks Mrs. Harding.
My glass is just a couple of ice cubes and the melon. “Yes.” When she goes to take it, I pluck out the fruit to eat. She makes a face. “You actually eat them, Mr. Health Nut? I just toss them in for flavor.” Then she lets out a chuckle. “You and Cole really are two of a kind.”
I’m not sure what’s so special or unique about actually eating a couple chunks of honeydew melon, but I give her a smile of appreciation anyway. “Thank you for … um … for the refreshing water, and … and for …”
“Don’t mention it,” she says after setting both of our glasses in the sink, likely to deal with them later. Then she pats me on the shoulder when she passes by on the way to her bedroom. The door softly closes behind her, and I’m left to my thoughts.
Thoughts such as Cole and I and our lonesome, half-forgotten adventures in the backyard. Cole and the unplanned trip to the clinic. Cole and his mother … and mine.
I’m still lost in my thoughts when I return to Cole’s bedroom, finding him sleeping exactly as he was before, cuddling the pillow with the sheets pulled up to his shoulders. I slip into bed next to him unnoticed, then spoon him. He stirs only slightly, nuzzling his body against mine.
As I cuddle him, the rest of Mrs. Harding’s words return to me, how she thinks I’ve been good for Cole.
It may scare me a little bit, these big feelings that have been building inside of me all of this time, ever since Cole tackled me to the pavement of Main Street to protect me.
These feelings that I’ve been nervous to identify.
It’s a bit like stepping into a dark room, with no certainty of what awaits you there, with just as much of a fear of something terrible and dangerous as there might be something amazing and worth the pursuit.
I think I’m starting to realize I am willing to brave the dark for him. I am willing to take the leap.
I want to be courageous enough to deserve someone who is as amazing, as thoughtful, and as wholehearted as Cole.
I want to be his boyfriend.
With a smile on my lips and just a pinch of fear in my heart, I reach back and flick off the nightlight. In the pure darkness of his bedroom, the sound of our soft breaths lost to the sheets, I realize I have never felt more safe in the dark than I do right now, with Cole wrapped tightly in my arms.
Chapter 18
Noah
I inspect Cole’s arm as he stands before the mirror shirtless. “It’s practically gone,” I tell him as I run my fingers across the soft, smooth skin. “Like it never happened.”
“The wound might’ve healed, but it definitely still happened,” says Cole, turning from the mirror to face me. “It’s why we’re all here. It’s why I’m standing in front of this mirror. It’s why …” The confidence drains from his eyes. “It’s why I’m not wearing a shirt.”