“No, it’s okay.”
The noise starts to pick up from the street, and I watch as Liam stands. The flutter in my stomach comes unexpectedly as he extends his hand to help me up as well.
“It’ll be a nice sunset tonight,” he says on an exhale.
The sky is already starting to change color, adding more pink and purple into its display. I cross my arms over my chest and look around at the city below us. It’s not that busy, nothing compared to somewhere like New York City, but it’s still enough to make me retreat a few steps back.
“You okay?” he asks, turning to me.
“Yeah,” I reply, his eyes locked on me, and I smile. “Sometimes I look into a crowd of people and think I’ll see Brandon. I don’t know why.” I shrug, keeping my arms over my chest.
“Are you afraid to see him or something?”
“No, definitely not afraid. Just more like I could do the rest of my life without having to.”
I’ve never said that out loud. I’ve barely formed the words together in my head before, but here I am spilling it to Liam.
I can feel the warmth of his body closing in on me and instead of forcing it away, I’m staying put, welcoming the comfort of a friend.
“Baggage for baggage?” Liam smiles down at me and I nod.
The phrase seems to have become our own little way of saying,you show me yours, I’ll show you mine. I tip my chin as an invitation to go ahead.
“I love playing football. I love the fans, this city, the adrenaline that comes with a two-minute drill, game on the line,” he says in a quiet voice. “But sometimes my dad makes me hate it.”
Something cracks in my chest at his confession. Because you’d never,everknow how strained their relationship is. You’d never guess Liam harbors so much internally.
He goes quiet for a moment, and I don’t say anything either as he turns and we both face the sky.
I don’t have anyone who I share things with like this. And I get the impression maybe Liam doesn’t either.
He slowly tilts his head back, and I notice him shift his weight on his feet. I can only imagine the kind of beating his body takes every week. I’m someone who gets aches and pains if I sleep wrong, how these guys get hit over and over and still walk straight is forever a mystery to me. I press my fingers into my hip, thankful that somehow it’s feeling so much better. Stretching really is helpful, who would’ve thought?
“You okay?” I lightly nudge my shoulder into him.
“Always.” His head snaps toward me and he grins.
I want to believe him when he says it. That he’s always okay. But I saw him the other day on the balcony—in a moment that felt too personal for my eyes. I bite the inside of my cheek, but can’t hold back my words.
“Well, if you’re evernotokay, you know, on the off chance, of course”—I tilt my head in his direction with a narrowed gaze—“you can talk to me.” I shrug, my thumbs circling one another.
Our eyes connect and he simply nods, a quiet agreement—one I hope he knows I mean.
I don’t know if it’s the way the sun’s hitting his face or the comfortable stupor I’ve been feeling up here, but he looks so innocent at this moment. So perfectly sculpted and beautiful.
“What about you? You okay? You got quiet,” he says leaning against one of the pillars.
I sigh. “I am. I think a lot and that tends to make me quiet. I’m not a thinking out loud type of person.”
“Hmm, you should try it, it’s great.”
“Just saying the first thought that pops into your mind without thinking about it for hours on end? Sounds terrifying.”
A low chuckle escapes him. “Let’s try it.” He crosses his arms over his chest, and I internally curse at myself for the feeling that builds in my lower stomach.
“I don’t know.”
“Come on, Dem.” His head tilts and there’s a teasing spark in his eyes.
