“I think we’re. . .friends.” I put it out there very delicately.
“Friends,” Lyla repeats the word as if she’s waiting for me to hear it.
“Yeah, I guess. I don’t know.” I lift my head, shaking it. “It’s a lot, living with him, spending so much time together, learning about each other.”
“And you like it? Living with him and spending time together?” Lyla asks.
Why do I feel like I’m on the witness stand?
Yes, your honor. I like being with Cole.
I think about his hand wrapping around mine and tugging me into the carnival. No warning bells sounded. It was bold but. . .reassuring, like everything was ok. A simple point of contact that’s only added to the mounds of confusing sensations sneaking up on me.
Those few hours with Cole were like none I’ve ever had. His easygoing, gentle confidence is contagious. What we did that afternoon might be what some people call fun.
I lean forward as each muscle begins to constrict, and my pores spew sweat.
“It’s. . .easy to be with him. Mostly.”
Except for when I start feeling things and I don’t know what they are or what to do about them. Things I’m not sure I should even be feeling. I can still feel his careful fingers running over my bare skin, which I thought would make me want to shave the layers off afterward. But instead, his touch felt warm and soothing and. . .nice.
I rest my arms on my knees, forcing myself to breathe. “He saw my brand.” I’ll give them this.
“How?” It’s Jamie’s tender voice.
“A piece of glass caught me that night, and I couldn’t reach to make sure the wound was clean or see how deep it was.”
“What did. . .he say?” Lyla tiptoes through the question.
I remember his eyes pausing for those three seconds. “Nothing. He just…moved along.”
“Hold on,” Jos’s hand pops into the air. “You were topless in front of him? Ry, this ishuge!”
I stretch back, giving my semi-functioning lungs some room. “No. I had a bra on, dummy.”
“That’s still pretty big,” Lyla points out.
“It was, but Cole is. . . It’s like he somehow understands.” I squeeze my eyes shut so hard my face hurts, knowing what I saynext will blow the lid off the box I keep duct-taped, reinforced with a padlock, and a rigged grenade.
This shit is about to be blasted wide open, and dammit, here it goes.
“It wasn’t. . .terrible.”
Nothing but complete silence.
I keep my eyes closed, focusing on each breath.
Then, breathing some more as my heart pounds so hard it’s all I can hear. My entire body is coated in a damp layer of sweat, and there’s that painful ache in the back of my throat that will not win.
I just sit, letting my chest rise and fall, waiting for it all to settle down, but it won’t.
Then, eventually, I hear, “Ry,” Jamie whispers.
“I just stood there, letting him touch me. His hands were attentive but gentle and. . . He hugged me. Like really hugged me, and I kind of liked it. I mean, I’d let him do it again. I fell asleep in his room. He slept in his bed, and I stayed in the chair. Just like that.”
I stand, unable to control the absolute panic, taking a shot at every opening. “He’s so damn careful and kind and funny and smiles like all the freaking time. It’s like he knows when to push and when not to. He took my hand the other day. Just grabbed and held on like it was no big deal, and it wasn’t. So, I held his back. We spent the afternoon together playing carnival games, laughing and. . .it felt kind of like a date, I think. I mean, I’ve never been on one, but I imagine that’s what it’s like.”
Holy shit!
