When my head settles down, I move on to the next photograph, trying to make sense of this, and reveal Nora…
Nora and…
My jaw drops open.
The stack slips through my fingers, each photo floating down onto my bed, but my eyes are still glued onto the back of the photo I just saw. I reach down, but my fingers are shaking so bad that I have to use both hands to pick it back up.
I shake my head.
I don’t… I can’t…
It’s… It’s Nora…
And me.
She’s…
We’re…
Kissing.
What the fuck.
I can finally see where all the pieces of the puzzle belong, but I don’t want to snap them into place. A chill crawls up my spine as I stand there frozen.
Move, Stevie!
All at once, my eyes are darting around my bed and my hands must’ve developed a mind of their own, because I am not in control of my own body right now. I watch as they manically gather up every last remnant and shove it back into the box as quickly as humanly possible.
I step backward away from it all until I knock into my desk. I jump, thinking it’s my mom, and scare the absolute shit out of myself.
I need to get it out of here. Get rid of it before anyone sees.
I shouldn’t have gone looking in the first place.
I should have just let it go.
Because now my clean slate is gone. For good.
CHAPTER 24
IDON’T KNOW WHAT THEhell I’m doing. I can’t think of a single safe place for this box of secrets and I don’t have much of a plan, but I deserve to know the truth and there’s only one person who can give that to me.
There has to be another explanation, because if there’s one thing I am sure about, it’s that I’m not… gay.I can’t be.
As I speed toward the countryside, I try to ignore the way that photo made me feel in the deepest parts of me. I try to ignore how it all makes so much sense.
It could be the reason I stopped hanging out with Savannah and Rory.
It could be the reason I was in the woods that day, and why Nora acts so strange sometimes.
Is this why I shut Mom out? Did Nora make me hide this from her? How could I ever chooseherover my own mom?
I could never. Iwouldnever.
A stop sign comes out of nowhere and I slam my foot down on the brake. My backpack flies off the passenger seat and into the dash. I can hear the contents of the shoe box inside shuffle around as it hits the floor. I force my eyes back onto the road, my hand wrenching around the steering wheel so tight that myknuckles turn white, and instantly I’m reminded of Nora in the meat shop, her hands clamped down on the counter.
That fucking story…
