He smiles against my hand. I lower it so I can see it and when I do, I smile back.
“You’re different than I thought you were,” I tell him.
“How so?”
“I used to think you were a sociopath.”
He laughs lightly, not looking the least bit offended. “You’re exactly what I thought you were.”
“A stone cold bi—”
“A perfect fit for Ryan.”
I blink, surprised. “That’s shockingly romantic to hear from you.”
“Even sociopaths have feelings. You’re rough around the edges but you’re what he needs.”
“What does he need?”
“I have no idea,” he says emphatically. “But whatever it is, you have it. I don’t know why he loves you because I obviously don’t see it. I don’t feel it. I don’t get it. But there’s something about you that Ryan does see. It’s something he understands that no one else can. Not the way he does. You’re not special, Joss.”
“Awesome. Hurtful. Thank you.”
“Neither is Ryan. But the two of you together, that’s different. You guys make something unique, something you’d never be able to have with anyone else.” He looks at me sideways. “So maybe don’t run away from it just because you’re scared.”
“I’m scared he’s going to die,” I whisper nervously, afraid to say it out loud.
“He is going to die. That’s a stupid thing to be afraid of.”
“Jeez, Trent,” I complain.
“What? It’s true. He’ll die, I’ll die, you’ll die. You pointed that out to me not too long ago, remember? No one lives forever. You’re an idiot if you think otherwise. If you’re so convinced he’s going to die tomorrow, shouldn’t you enjoy the time you have with him today?”
That hits home so hard I feel tears sting my eyes. I don’t understand it right away. I have no idea why I react so violently to what he said—not until it sinks in for a second. Then it hits me like a freight train.
Crenshaw.
Leave tomorrow for the cowards. Today you must be fearless.
The last lesson he forced on me. His last, most desperate effort to change my world.
“Dammit!” I shout, standing reluctantly.
Stupid Crenshaw. Stupid Trent!
“Where is he?” I ask him.
“In one of the houses two blocks from here. Back toward town.”
“Do you know the address?”
“2220 Sandy Drive.”
“Thank you!” I shout, already heading for the door.
“What are you going to do?” he calls after me.
“I’m gonna be a man and tell a guy I love him!”
When I come out of the tent, I’m instantly drenched. The rain is coming down harder now. The ground is wet under my feet as it quickly turns to mud, and when I start to run, I worry I’ll slip and fall on my face.
I run so hard it hurts. I want to tear my muscles. I want to claw my way out of this skin, out of this world, out of my mind until I find a bigger and better place where I’m not so scared all the time. So scared and so angry I can hardly see straight. And I’m not when I’m with him. At least not as much. He’s that place, that solace. The hideaway I need where I’m not alone for the first time in forever, and maybe that’s the thing about Ryan that makes me love him like I do. The thing not everyone else can see. There’s a place just for me with him. One that makes me better. A place where I want to be for the rest of my life, no matter how long that is.
So I run. I run and I fall, but I get up and I run again.
I burst through the door of the small, dark house, and I fall headlong into everything that’s haunted me for months. That’s terrorized me. That’s made me doubt and wonder. I run straight into its depths, my breath on my lips as I gag on the words. It’s not as scary as I thought it would be.
It’s so much worse.
Ryan stands when I come crashing through the door. Bray is there with him and they look at me with sad, worried faces that make me cringe inside: it’s more emotion, more feelings I don’t know what to do with—and now the one that sent me running here is screaming in my veins so loud my head hurts.
I breathe heavily, trying to calm myself down.
“Bray,” I say sternly, my eyes on Ryan, “find somewhere else to sleep tonight.”
“Seriously? It’s pouring out there,” he complains.
“Bray,” Ryan says firmly. “Get out.”
He’s angry, but he goes. He walks right past me out the door without a word or glance. He closes the door silently behind him, but I still know it when he’s gone. I can feel it, like the air is moving around me differently. It’s burning my skin and giving me goose bumps. I feel like I’m vibrating but I’m standing stock still, my eyes still glued on Ryan’s. His face—his golden, glowing face—is shadowed by pain. I’m not good at reading people, but this feeling I know. It’s this feeling I’ve avoided for so many years, but now it’s caught up with me and it’s brought so much more with it. So many things that I don’t know how to handle.
“Are you okay?” I whisper.
His lips tighten until they’re white and I worry for a second that he’ll cry. I’m worried I won’t be able to handle it.
“I’m okay,” he finally replies softly, his voice steady. “Are you okay?”
“I talked to Trent.”
His eyes widen. “How’d that go?”
I grin weakly. “I’m here. I’m going to try very hard to be nice.”
He chuckles softly before sitting down in a chair behind him. I don’t know why but I wish he’d stay standing. I don’t feel like I can sit. I don’t feel like I can be still or silent or at ease. I have an overwhelming feeling that there’s so much to do and no time to do it. My head and my heart and my body are all talking at once and I can’t make out a word of it. I don’t even know if I speak the language.
“I’m going to miss him,” I say, trying to purge this squirming thing inside of me.
Ryan nods. “Yeah, me too.”
“He wasn’t really crazy, was he?”
“I don’t know.” He smiles sadly. “I think he was when he wanted to be.”
“I think he was hiding, like me.”
“Whoa.”
“What? You don’t think so?”
“No,” he says, his face still covered in surprise. “I think you’re dead on. It’s just a really insightful thing to say.”
“I’m going to try to not be insulted by that reaction.”
“Well, you’re not exactly—”
“Insightful, I know. I didn’t say you were wrong.”
We fall into a silence that doesn’t feel as awkward as it is. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t know. It’s a one-sided feeling of anxiety and dread that he’s blissfully unaware of. One that’s tearing through me like acid in my gut, eating me from the inside out. How he doesn’t see it on my face is beyond me. Maybe he’s too spent. Maybe now isn’t the time after all.
“You seem all right,” he says suddenly.
It’s surprising how wrong he is.
“I am,” I lie.
“When you kicked Bray out I was ready for anything. You being all right wasn’t what I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
“Crying.”
“Ha,” I chuckle nervously. “Not if I can help it.”
“Why then?”
“Why what?”
“Why did you kick Bray out?”
I look away, unable to face him. My heart is racing in my chest so hard it hurts. It’s so loud he has to hear it. He has to know. If only he could know it and I wouldn’t have to say it. I wouldn’t have to be afraid of him. Of us.
“Joss?”
I ignore him, focusing on my breathing. I can do this. I want to do this. I need to do it because I need him and it doesn’t make me weak or stupid. It makes me human. It makes me alive.
“Joss, look at me.”
I shake my head faintly, closing my eyes tightly. I hear him stand up. I feel it in the air the way I felt Bray leave, my skin hypersensitive and wild. He comes to stand in front of me and I’m so grateful when he doesn’t touch me. I’m tense from top to bottom. I’m trembling, shivering, shaking: a convulsing mess as though I’m having a seizure. Maybe I am. Maybe my body is going into shock from the crushing weight of this moment. From the heavy heft of his eyes settled on me.