Page 38 of Hilarina and the Ogre

Trenton wiped at a wet spot on his cheek. Hilary hadn’t dried his hair well—or at all. "Sometimes.”

And he knew it was too dangerous to go forward. Not without a plan. But he also couldn’t seem to turn back. He flopped down beside Trenton on the bed and hooked a leg over him. Still smiling, nothing but casual. “What do you think about when you do it?”

Trenton was still looking for clues. “It?”

“Touching yourself.”

It was a mistake. A worse mistake. They were too far in, and he had no idea what expression he was supposed to be making. The smile he was wearing felt stuck. Plastic.

Trenton frowned. The boy could feel the anxiety in the air, the awareness of too many things going wrong. “Nothing much.” And Trenton was thinking. Always thinking. Putting together every piece of the puzzle. Dangerous.

"What do you mean, nothing?” And Hilary could hear the way his voice was curdling. “Are you a robot?"

Too intense. Why was he getting irritated? This was supposed to be funny. Casual. He had to circle back to casual. But Trenton got in the way of that.

"What do you think about then?"

Shit.

“Guess.”

But that was also wrong. Hilary didn’t want Trenton guessing. That was the last thing he wanted.

He sat up, too abrupt. “Forget it.”

Trenton grabbed at his wrist. “Hey.”

Hilary’s laugh came out wrong. Not casual at all. More like splinters stuck in his chest. “Why are you being so serious? It was a joke.”

And Trenton was looking at him, with those relentless eyes. They would know. They were finding out already. He jerked free.

“Hilary—”

“Just go home.”

“But—”

“You’re always here. Would it kill you to give me some space occasionally?”

There was hurt there. Hilary saw it hit, and he cringed from it, hating it. But he needed to hurry. If he didn’t—

“Is that what you want?” Trenton asked.

The boy was composed, and still thinking, those eyes too sharp.

Hilary was left with no choice but to shut it down. “Read the fucking room.”

Trenton stood up. He didn’t take the book. “Alright.”

It was too sudden. Hilary had been prepared for a fight, but Trenton went just like that. No goodbye. No demands for an explanation.

It was a shock. Even knowing he’d brought it on, even knowing he’d been aiming for it, Hilary couldn’t believe it. Call him a co-dependent fool, but he wasn’t prepared for Trenton leaving. The boy always stuck to him. Could be relied on to stick to him. Even if everyone else flaked or tried to leave, Trenton would be there. Had promised to be there. Hilary watched the boy put his shoes on. Watched him take the jacket with the keys inside. Watched the door shut behind him.

Hilary ran, stumbling over the clothes he’d dropped on the floor when he’d come in. He went down to one knee but then was scrambling forward again. He got to the door, his hand on the knob. It was shaking, and not only his hand. He pulled it back, tucking it against his chest, and sank down by the door, unable to move forward. The need to move, the urgency of it, was paralyzing him.

But then the door was wrenched back open, and it was Trenton, his eyes leaping coals. “And that’s it? You’d just let me walk away?”

Hilary stared, stupid with incomprehension. Trenton seemed to be on fire, a burning storm. And then those hands came down and took hold of him, lifting him by the shirt. Hilary heard something tear, some stitches giving way. “You would just let me go? Like we were strangers? Like I didn’t matter?”