“If I can help somehow, then I want to,” I say.
“Sam, you can only hear voices within a certain radius, right? That cliff up there. Out of range, right?” Costa asks as he hops into the rowboat tied to the dock. “I’m gonna row myself out there just like a distinguished sea captain. When I’m far enough that Stella can’t hear me talking but you still can, you’re going to try to block me out.”
“What do you mean?” Sam asks.
“Cut me off. Stop my yammering. With Stella here, I’m betting she can help you focus your power, so you can be stronger and have more control over it.” He throws on a life vest. “I know. Alifevest. Ironic, huh?”
As he rows out over the small waves, I have to admit that it’s not a bad idea. If I can somehow influence Sam’s hearing ability and he can turn off the incessant noise of people’s voices, it will be worth admitting again that Costa is right.
“This is crazy,” Sam says.
“I know. But we both know he’s right, don’t we? There’s something here, something between us, that connects with death tripping. Costa might be difficult and half insane some of the time, but he sees a strength between us that we haven’t.”
“Okay.”
“You’re shivering, Stella. It’s eighty-five degrees out.” He looks worried.
“I’m fine. Let’s just do this.” I don’t tell him that I find Costa’s power-augmenter idea daunting.
He knows anyway. “I’m so sorry about—”
“Stop. Don’t apologize. We don’t need to do that with each other. Death tripping is here to stay, so let’s get a handle on it.”
He nods and takes my hand.
It’s a relief when Costa’s screaming version of Poison’s “Talk Dirty to Me” vanishes for me, but based on Sam’s wincing, I can tell he still hears Costa. I wave a hand to signal that the boat is far enough out, and Costa stays where he is.
Sam frowns. “He’s intentionally singing radically off tune. And…oh God, now, he’s ad-libbing weirdly and stuff. We have to stop this.”
“Good. You’re motivated!” I squeeze his hand.
“Yep. He’s moved on to ‘Unskinny Bop.’ Let’s make this work.”
“So, now…I don’t know. There isn’t exactly a rulebook here, but I’m going to focus on you, and you focus on blocking out Costa’s wretched singing.”
I close my eyes while the ocean air breezes over me, through me, and I concentrate on Sam and my love for him. I think about the first time I met Sam in the stairwell of the hospital—his touch on my skin, the sweetness he brought to such a horrible day, the impulsive way that I ran through the sleet to be in his arms.
I get dizzy and take a step back.
I see Sam angry on the deck the day I moved in, feel the strength of his arm when he caught me before I fell. Then, I remember the night he first cooked dinner for me, how he started to let me in. I feel the hard shift when every wall between us dissipated and how we fell in love with so much work and fear but also with such ease and trust. There are no conditions and no limits on my love for this boy who stands next to me.
His voice takes me from my thoughts. “It’s so peaceful when he shuts the fuck up, isn’t it?”
I smile. “You did it? You blocked him out?”
He nods. “I did. Shit, I really did it. Youaremaking me stronger, Stella.”
I throw my arms around him and tightly hug him. Everything about him impresses me—not just his powers and how he’s gaining skill, but also how he handles so much in his life and the way he loves and lets me love him.
Besides all the syrupy feelings, I think definitively that I’m going to fuck his brains out tonight. Then, we’re going to order pizza and eat in bed and get crumbs all over the place and have an awesome time.
Slowly, Sam turns to me, his face stunned. “Oh my God.”
Confused, I ask, “What’s wrong?”
He looks incredibly unhappy as he asks a very simple question, “So, what kind of pizza are we getting?”
I shake my head. “No. That’s not possible.”
