“You okay?” Winter asked, concerned. “You’re nervous again.”
I grimaced. “Yes. See, once I get something in my head, it has to come out. The less I try to think about it, the more I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“Okay,” he said with a patient smile. “Is it the questions you wanted to ask me?”
“Yes.” My hands were fists, my nails biting into my palms. I opened and closed them a few times and it helped. “I wish I wasn’t like this.”
He made a sad face and came to stand in front of me,looking into my eyes. I tried to look anywhere else, but then he reached out and put his hand on my arm. “Deacon.”
I pulled back. “No.”
His eyes went wide and he took a step back, his hands up, palms forward, as if I was like Mr. Jenkins’ skittish horse. “I’m sorry. I should have asked permission.”
“I don’t like it,” I said quickly. “Being touched.”
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I should have asked first, and if I’d known, I certainly wouldn’t have.”
I tried to lock down the urge to run away, and I took in a deep breath. I’d been in this situation a hundred times—people were so touchy-feely without a second thought. A hand on the arm, the shoulder, a handshake.
I shuddered as I remembered my time at college when Marcus Hardwick had kissed me without warning.
It hadn’t ended well.
At all.
“It’s okay,” I tried. I didn’t want Winter to feel bad. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Not really.
“No, it’s not okay,” he said. “I should have asked first. Maybe we could ask each other what we like and what we don’t like. What makes us uncomfortable, so we know not to do that. Would that help?”
It took a second for me to repeat in my mind what he said. I nodded. “Yes. That would help.”
“Okay, I’ll go first,” he said. “I don’t like loud noise I can’t control. If it’s my music, that’s okay, because I can have it as loud as I like. But if it’s someone else’s loud music, I don’t like that. I can’t control their noise, and I get agitated.”
“Like when you’re on the bus and someone listens to music without headphones.”
“Yes!” he said, smiling. “Exactly.”
“I don’t like that either.”
“Okay, your turn,” he said, smiling as if this was a game.
It somehow made it easier.
“I don’t like being touched,” I said, which he already knew. “But it’s okay if I do it or if I expect it. Like if Dad pats my shoulder, that’s okay.”
He smiled. “If you can control it,” he said. “Like the noise. And if you trust that person not to overstep.”
I hadn’t really thought of it like that, but yes.
“It’s not easy for me,” I said. “And people don’t understand. I make them uncomfortable.”
He frowned now. “Sounds to me like they weren’t the right people for you. Real friends would understand.”
I shook my head. “People at college made fun of me.”
“Oh, Deacon, I’m so sorry.”
“In my first year, I went to a party. My first real party. But the music was too loud, and the room was too crowded and hot. Most people were drunk, and I made myself stay because I wanted people to like me and to have friends, but Marcus Hardwick kissed me and I freaked out so bad, Lacey and Jessica had to take me home.”
