“Sorry,” he mumbles immediately, as though it bothers me that he’s woken me up.
“That’s all right. You okay?”
He sighs. I don’t know why I’m even asking—he never answers truthfully, and I know he’s not okay.
“Yeah, just a bad dream,” he says, which is honestly more than I get from him most times this happens. I decide to push my luck.
“Want to put a game on? I can make some…tea, or something.” I try to think if we even have tea in the cupboard. If not, I can always run to Wal-Mart and get some. Max thinks about this offer for a second, leaning a shoulder wearily against the doorframe. God, he looks sotired—pale and haggard, like something is sucking away his life force.
“No, I think I’m going to go back to bed. Thanks, though.”
I nod and take another step back, hoping he can actually fall back asleep. I’ve already decided I won’t wake him for class tomorrow morning if he sleeps past the time we usually get up. He needs a day off.
“All right. Sleep good.”
When I get back to my room, I sit on the edge of my bed in the dark, bare feet scuffing along the wood floor. I’m not sure I’ll be able to sleep now, or at least not for a bit. Not when I’d be lying here, ears cocked for the smallest sound from Max’s room. I never feel well-rested anymore. I never reallysleep. It’s as though my toes are just skimming thesurface, but I never fully jump in. Always on a hair trigger, in case Max needs me.
Sliding back under the covers, I reach over to grab my phone. There’s a text waiting for me from Nate, directly underneath the one he’d sent earlier, when we’d exchanged numbers.
Nate
Hi, this is Nate :)
Are you awake?
I check the time, noting that the second message was only sent half an hour ago. Biting my lip, I rest my phone down on my stomach and look up at the dark ceiling. I should ignore it. There’s only one reason someone might text at midnight, and I don’t know whether I should indulge in that or not. Tapping my fingers idly, I think about dinner tonight, and the way Nate listened as I talked. The way he got Max to smile, and the way he pressed his leg against mine beneath the table. Mostly, I think about those impossible, grass-green eyes.
Picking up my phone, I text back before I can talk myself out of it.
Marcos
Yeah, I’m up.
Nate
Can I call you?
This makes me pause again. Max’s room is far enough away that he probably wouldn’t be able to hear me talking,and I could make sure to keep my voice down. But do I wantto talk to Nate?
Yes, I realize with surprise. The answer to that is unequivocally yes.
Marcos
Sure.
My phone rings barely thirty seconds later, the screen lighting up my dark room. Rolling over onto my side so my back is toward the door, I answer it.
“Hey,” I whisper.
“Thanks for answering,” he replies, which makes me feel a little bad. Max was right when he said I wasn’t good at making friends. Apparently, Nate’s already picked up on that.
“I have to be quiet,” I mutter. “I don’t want to disturb Max.”
“Same. Atlas is home tonight and his room shares a wall with mine. A thin wall.”
“Did you need something?” I ask, because I’m not even sure why he wanted to have this call in the first place.
“I wanted to talk to you,” he says immediately, as though the answer was obvious.
