Young Writers Society

I knew, the second the look in his eyes registered, that I was killing him. I couldn't quite tell if he was afraid or just hurt, or maybe both, and I blamed the dim light from the hall for my inability to read his facial features. It wasn't like I hadn't been expecting him to ask eventually, but I hadn't been expecting him to ask tonight, and he'd caught me off-guard.

I swallowed, mouth trying desperately to remember how to make words. How to explain myself to him before he started crying, because it looked like he was going to. I obviously needed to tell him that my inability to answer wasn't due to hesitancy, but I couldn't make myself say yes, because I was trying very, very hard to restrain myself from straightening out my spine and kissing him.

I finally remembered to nod, at least, and then I smiled, partially involuntary and partially because my lips needed something to do. "Absolutely." I hoped that the almost inordinate amounts of certainty in that word got rid of his fear of my not being sure, because I was definitely, irrevocably sure.

"Oh my God, Braz," he said, literally on a breath. "I swear, you just stared at me like that for an hour."

I laughed, falling back against his chest before I did kiss him, and adjusted the blanket around my shoulder. "It wasn't that long, Parker."

I felt his lips brush my hair, just roll across them before the moment of hesitancy passed and he kissed my head. My internal response to that was almost scary.

"No," he whispered. "Probably more like a few seconds. And- I swear, Braz. It'll be the best date ever. I'll cater everything to you, and just- I don't know. I have a lot of absence to make up for, y'know?" He sounded like he was stretching his voice thin. Like it might crack it was so strained, if he wasn't careful. I would've checked to see if he was crying, but I couldn't make my cheek leave the front of his shoulder.

"This isn't a guilt thing, is it?" It wasn't a safe road to travel if it was just a guilt thing. I didn't want this to be obligation. Recompense for past mistakes. Because once he made up for it, he'd be gone, and I didn't want to have to do that.

"No. No, I swear. Not a guilt thing." I heard him swallow. "I just... I don't know. I remember Michael telling me that you told your mom that I made you happy when I visited, and I remember how ridiculously amazing that felt. And I like it when you're happy so- jeez, it's not even that late and I'm already sleepy-rambling. Sorry."

I didn't know how to respond to that, so I chuckled instead and whispered, "It's endearing." I decided to believe him, though. He cared. If I focused hard enough on his tone when he said it, and not the fact that his voice wavered under that tone, I could tell.

"We should figure out a day and stuff," he said after a while.

I mulled it over for a second. "I promised Nicky that she could spend the night at my place tomorrow. Been a while since we've had the chance to hang out one-on-one. This week... I'm allowed to start school again right away as long as I stay out of P.E, and I've got a thousand things to catch up on if I'm going to graduate this year, so... next Saturday? As in the Saturday that's after tomorrow." I didn't want to think about school. I had no idea how people would react. A few of my classmates had visited the first couple weeks, but they'd stopped showing up after it was confirmed that I wasn't going to die. I couldn't even remember which ones had come.

"Okay." His lips pressed against my head again, and mine felt like they were getting warm around the edges. "Waiting until Saturday gives me prep time, and I think I'll need it."

I felt myself smiling, forcing myself to be content with the warmth of his shoulder. I refused to kiss him until he was fully awake and capable of a coherent response. "Saturday, then. I might not see much of you this week, but... yeah. Texts are an option."

"You'll probably get a buttload of them. Don't respond unless you actually want to. Or have time or whatever."

I nodded, and after that, neither of us said anything. I was pretty sure that Parker fell asleep at some point because his breathing got deeper, and I lost myself to daydreams. Daydreams that were mostly futile guesses at what he was planning, and daydreams about what would happen in the future if things worked. I was going to be optimistic about it though, because Michael was right. There was something about Parker that tied him to me, and, hopefully, tied me to him. Whatever it was had left me unsatisfied with romantic interest, and willing to try to trust him more quickly than I'd anticipated.

I must have dozed too, because all I remember about the rest of that night was that Leanne drove me home because Parker couldn't keep his eyes open, and that she never said anything about us snuggling on the chair, but she looked almost as happy as Parker did.