I desperately search for a subject change before realizing something. “Wait a second, you never showed me your room.”
Danny sheepishly runs his hands through his black, wavy hair—histell for when he’s embarrassed.
“Oh. You don’twantto show me your room.” I blush.Why did I even bring up his room? Of course he doesn’t want me in his room.I cringe to myself.
He shakes his head. “It’s not that, it’s just?—”
“It’s a sex dungeon, isn’t it?”
Danny starts coughing like he swallowed a bug. “Excuse me?”
“Wait, is it actually a sex dungeon? I won’t judge you. Your secret is safe with me, Danny. It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” I reassure innocently.
“It’s not?—”
“Then why are you coughing and blushing all suspiciously?” I enjoy makinghimsquirm for once. “Hold up. Isthatwhat you use that long kitchen table for? Some fetish thing?” I start giggling uncontrollably.
“Mercy, Grace. I beg you,” he chokes out, still coughing.
I laugh so hard a tear escapes from my eye. I’ve missed this.
He fusses with his hair nervously. “I’m coughing because I never thought I’d hear you speak the words ‘sex dungeon’ in my guest bedroom.”
“I didn’t realize you were so chaste, Danny.”
His eyes darken. “I think you remember my lack of chastity, Gracie.”
It’s my turn to blush while he grins triumphantly.
I put my hands on my hips. “Okay. So, if it’s not a sex thing, why won’t you show me your room?”
“If you would simply let me finish evenonecomplete sentence, I would tell you that it’s just a force of habit not to bring people to that part of the house. It’s my personal space.”
I wince. “Ah, you only bringspecialguests to your room. Got it.”
He’s still grinning for some reason. “I actually haven’t ever brought anyone to this house outside of my family. When I moved here five years ago, I knew I wanted to keep my home as a place just for me.”
“I understand. We don’t have to go see it. I don’t want to intrude,” I say cautiously.
“If you want to see it, I’ll show you. Anything you want, Gracie.” He reaches for me, almost as a reflex, before quickly shoving his hand in his pocket. For a moment, I find myself wishing he would’ve followed his instinct. Would his hand be warmer now, his grip stronger than before? Would I feel the same sense of safety I did with our fingers intertwined? Instead, he leads me down a different hallway, away from the main guest bedrooms and bathrooms.
As we reach the narrow space outside his bedroom door, I count at least twenty picture frames on the wall, like a gallery. When I move closer to the frames, I slowly bring my hand to my lips. Staring in awe, I’m not sure what picture to look at first, because some of them…are of us.
Danny and me, sitting on our log by the creek on the eve of my tenth birthday. My head is resting on his shoulder, and there’s a football by his feet. Grandma Mae must’ve captured us when we weren’t looking.
Danny and me, mid-air, jumping on his bed while playing air guitar and jamming to an emo punk song. Janie took this one. She was probably laughing her ass off. We thought we were so cool.
Danny and me, giggling as we spin around in a carousel at the fairgrounds. This one appears to be an attempted selfie, as it’s completely dragged out and blurred from all the lights.
Danny and me, with our arms around each other after he scored a sixty-yard touchdown during his last game at Winfield High. Definitely taken by his little sister, Tessa, because the centering is all off. I’m pretty sure that’s part of her knuckle in one corner.
And then there’s us, standing in front of my college dorm. A small ball forms in the pit of my stomach. It’s hard to stare at that one. We were so in love, thinking that we had our whole lives in front of us.
“It’s…me,” I whisper incredulously. “Sorry, I just mean, there are, um, pictures of us. Not all of them, of course, but I’m there, and…and you’re there,” I stumble, not believing my own eyes.
I try to ignore my heart, which is beating at lightning speed. A flurry of questions race through my mind. How long have the pictures been on this wall? He said he moved here five years ago. Has this gallery been here the whole time? Was it at his last place, when he was probably seeing other women?Did they wonder who I was?
I can feel his gaze on my neck. “You are a big part of my life, Gracie,” he says carefully.Present tense.I move past that and focus on each picture, zeroing in on details I haven’t seen in years.
