Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 111089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 555(@200wpm)___ 444(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 555(@200wpm)___ 444(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
I wasn’t much of a believer, but if I had been, I would have thought God, or the universe, or some sadist demon that interfered with our lives, had conspired to pull us apart from the crowd.
“Tex doing well?” James asked.
“Going on another day-date today. I think he’s decided these Saturdays are his time to make the magic happen.”
As James laughed, some of the remaining tension between us dissolved. It would take time, I was sure. We weren’t out of the woods, not while he was coming to terms with some things about himself as well as what must have been the real worry about what we’d done affecting his life if anyone found out. Not to mention those things he’d told me about Sheila.
“I know we had a lot to discuss at once before,” James said, “but now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, I figure there might be other things you’d want to chat about…with a friend.” He was talking about what I’d shared about my parents.
“Yeah, that was all I was ready to talk about then. Maybe even more than I was ready to talk about.”
“I understand. Feels like being human is having these gaping wounds you run around hiding so no one else can pick at them. Then someone gets a glimpse, and it makes it all feel—”
“A little more bearable. Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“No, that was exactly where I was going.”
We shared a look, two men who’d seen each other’s open wounds—just enough to know.
“Maybe we could make a deal,” I said. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours?”
His expression revealed just what a painful request it was. I didn’t have any expectation of him taking me up on it, but before I had the chance to chalk it up to a joke, he said, “Deal.”
We looked into one another’s eyes. Obviously, it wasn’t the first time we’d done that, far from it, but it felt like it was a first something. I’d gone through so much of my life wanting to be invisible, but I wanted James to see me…the real me.
We didn’t say anything more about the agreement as we continued working, but I’d taken it seriously, and for some reason, judging by the way he’d said it, I knew he had too.
If I wanted to know more about James’s wounds, I’d have to share mine. It wasn’t something I was eager to do, but it was what had to be done if I had any chance of getting to his.
And that’s what I wanted so fucking badly, it burned in my goddamn chest.
20
James
Inappropriate, that’s what my relationship with Kyle was. Since we’d practically made out, there was no doubt in my mind about that. But it was even worse that, despite the potential consequences and our conversation about our actions, I didn’t want it to stop there.
Any opportunity to see him excited me, including the H4H’s annual Thanksgiving party. When Maya and DJ had first asked him if he’d be in attendance, he said yes, his gaze meeting mine, as though he wanted me to know in hopes that I’d be there too. I assured the group I would be attending too, and I could see his expression shift subtly to relief.
When that evening arrived, I headed through DJ and Maya’s house, carrying a pecan pie and a broccoli casserole. I said some friendly hellos to the volunteers I recognized as I worked my way to the designated dish table. Then I searched around for Kyle, doubting he’d be there just yet. I hadn’t seen his car outside, though I wondered if he might have carpooled with some of the others. I navigated into the kitchen, where I found spaces for the main dish and dessert.
“Hey,” I heard behind me.
A calm moved through me, the sort that reminded me of the familiar ease I would get after I was prescribed Xanax to help me through my separation. Strange to think that Kyle was the reason for my anxiety and also the subsequent ease his presence offered.
I turned to see him in a hoodie and jeans like the ones he’d been wearing the last few Saturdays. He stood what seemed like just a little too close.
“Hey, Kyle,” I said, enjoying the sensation of his name slipping past my lips.
“That your pecan pie you were telling me about?”
“Yeah, and that right there, broccoli casserole.”
“I made lemon squares—or I should say, Tex helped me—and Brussels sprouts.”
“I’ll have to try some.”
“Good, ’cause I definitely wanna taste your pie.” The way he said it, slowly, his lips moving in a peculiar way, it seemed like he intended it as innuendo, but admittedly, everything that came out of his mouth now sounded like that to me. Funny how quickly things went from innocent to not-even-slightly innocent.