Raine inhales sharply through his nose, and his eyelids flutter before closing. "You gotta be eighteen to be considered an adult. I don't know. All I do know is, there was a plan, and it didn't work out the way I thought it would."
"So, who did you live with after your grandfather died?" I press, trying—not so subtly—to figure out more of his story. He said his parents are gone. If there is no one else, that might explain all of this.
"It's kind of a long story," he says.
"That's why you dropped out of school." I'm not asking. I'm confirming.
Raine moves his elbow and lays down with his hand pillowed beneath his cheek. His other hand reaches over for the blanket and wraps himself up in it too and never responds to my last accusation.
He falls asleep much quicker than I do, and I feel a sense of calmness within me as I listen to the rhythm of his breaths mixed with the night sounds of nature. I wrap my arm around him and curl into his side. The feeling I have when I'm next to him offers me a type of comfort I’ve never felt. I'm attracted to him in so many ways it's almost confusing. To me, he defines perfection—the way all his facial features are perfectly symmetrical and his lashes and eyebrows are significantly darker than his skin tone and eyes. His longish hair accents his chiseled jaw, and I love looking at him. I've always loved looking at him. I fell for him after just watching him mow our lawn for six months. However, what I feel for him has reached a whole other level now.
For five years, I haven't let anyone in. Not even my parents know of the thoughts that pass through my mind, aside from my opinion on pretending to be something I’m not when I’m out in public with them. Yet, in such a short time, I feel like Raine gets me—at least a little—despite the lesson he's trying to teach me about wanting to be homeless. And while I know there is way more to his story, there's a broken soul in his body too. I feel it every time he speaks. He deserves more, I deserve less, and somewhere in the middle, we have met in this amazing place.
As I fall into a shallow sleep, Raine's body trembles lightly against mine. Again. I open my eyes to more darkness than there was when I fell asleep, leaving me without a clear image of what's happening. I shake him gently. "Raine," I whisper. "Are you okay?"
He doesn't respond, so I shake him a little harder. "Raine, you're scaring me." He's still shaking or vibrating, I don't know what to call it. I'd think it could be a night terror but this happened earlier too, just not to this degree, and he doesn’t seem to be afraid.
As at least five minutes go by, I still can't wake him up, and I'm beginning to freak out. Neither of us has a phone, and we're at least a mile from his truck, which is on the other side of the pitch-black woods with no real path. I'm not sure I could even find his truck if I tried.
I pound on his chest with my fists and shout his name much louder than I had the last two times. The tremors finally stop. His eyes flutter open, and he looks confused. "What—are you okay?" he asks me. "What's going on?"
Am I okay?"You were just convulsing for almost five minutes, and I couldn't wake you up. What's happening? Has this happened before?" I'm kneeling over him, pleading for an answer—understanding.
"I'm okay," he says, sounding as if he’s trying to brush me off. "I am."
"No, you're not," I spit back with anger.
"I have seizures sometimes; it's not a big deal."
"Thatisa big deal, Raine." I know nothing about seizures, though. I don't know what causes them or how to stop them.
"I've had them my whole life, and I'm still here, aren't I?" The slight hint of anger is warning me of embarrassment. I know enough about him now to see what he gets like when he has to expose another part of himself.
"Are you on medication?"
He laughs in response. "I eat food from a shelter, Haven. Come on now, you're a smart girl."
Ignoring the insult, I lay back down. "Does it happen every day?" I ask.
"I don't know," he shouts. "What is with the interrogation? Can we stop this, please? I'm fine. Just go back to sleep."
"I'm sorry," I mutter through a whisper.
He lies back down and wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me back into his chest. "Please, don't worry about me. I don't want that kind of pain in my life."
Which is why I'm afraid the only thing I will do now, is worry about you.
