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I tug the covers up over my shoulders and close my eyes, thinking of the way he rubbed me just now. Why’d he do that—if he doesn’t really like me at all? Is it guilt? I roll over on my side, hugging myself.
The next thing I’m aware of is his fingers tickling my arm.
“Hey there, sleeping beauty…” He’s smiling down at me, this little tight smile: nice and kind of awkward. “Got some donuts.”
I sit up, because I can’t stand to be lying down around him anymore. The donut box is on the duvet. I look at it, then at him.
“Did you have some already?”
His mouth twitches, like a trying-to-be smile. “Not yet.”
“You should have one.”
“Later,” he says. “There’s a latte on your nightstand. Got the decaf since I wasn’t sure.”
And then he’s out. Motherfucker bounces without another word, and I don’t see him for almost two hours. I can hear him. He gets a shower, I think brushes his teeth. After that, I hear him in his room—just house noises from when he walks and stuff.
I text my mom and Jenna, who tells me James and Cara hooked up after I left last night.
‘What? I thought she was seeing Ezra?’
‘Nope,’ Jenna replies. ‘I’m hearing it was an act, all for James. Your stepbrother is a single man’
Well, fuck me.
I notice as I’m texting Jenna that Brennan sent one asking how I’m feeling. ‘Better today,’ I tell him. I feel bad for withholding the truth, but I don’t want to talk about that shit yet. Marcel texts as I’m polishing off my second chocolate donut.
‘What’s up with you and your bro?’
Nosey fucker.
‘Nothing,’ I text.
‘What did he do to you?’
The fuck? ‘Why do you think he did something?’
‘Dunno, just a feeling I get’
Great, so Marcel is a psychic now.
‘Nothing is up w/ us, dude. It’s all good.’
‘I like the boy,’ he tells me.
‘Uh well that’s good’
‘I think it’s good he moved here. Real good for the team too’
Why do people like to text? It’s so fucking boring.
‘How’s he playing?’ I ask, for shits and giggles.
‘Real good, brother. Good. He’s got some big scouts coming’
‘Oh yeah?’
‘Next week and the next- they’re gon want him too’
‘Where are they from,’ I ask.
‘All the places, brother. Bama, Auburn, I think TN. MICHIGAN. Hope they look at me too’
‘I’m sure they will,’ I tell him.
‘Thnx bruh.’
Thank God, that’s the end of text hell. I pull on a clean shirt and sit at my desk for a while, thumbing through my physics textbook. It comes pretty easily to me, but maybe that’s because I pre-read all the lessons. I wonder if Ezra does.
He said last night that he wants this shit with us to end. I’m sure right now he’s only watching out for me because he has to, trying to make our parents happy. What kind of dick would people think he was if he didn’t try to be nice after my big, weird, freakish SEIZURE?
I can’t get my brain into the physics. I don’t want to play the cello either, because I know he’ll hear. Maybe it’d be good for him to hear, so he can be reminded that I’m still normal and all. No need to rub my back or bring me treats.
I don’t want to play, though. I don’t even want to be here. I think of going fishing, and it hits me—I can’t drive. Dammit, I can’t take the boat out on the water, can I? Maybe I can. But I know that’s not true. I could fall into the water face down. Even with a life vest on—if I was seizing...
I walk out of my bedroom and onto the stairs. There’s a skylight right above them. I look up at the sky. Blue sky with fluffy white clouds. Fuck, this fucking blows.
“What’s up?”
Jesus. Fucking Ezra’s at the bottom of the stairs. I blink down at him. “Nothing.”
“Feeling okay?” he asks.
“Yeah. Feel fine.”
He’s looking up at me with rumpled brows. I widen my eyes at him.
“You get a donut?” he asks.
“No. They just sat in my room and I looked at them for a while. Juggled three, used another as a bracelet.” I turn around, so I can start back to my room. “If you want one, come get one. I only had two.”
I’m stretching out on my bed, lying face-down across the mattress, when I hear the door open.
“Hey…” His voice is softer than the norm. “You want to go out on the boat or something?”
“What?” I snap. Does he read minds now?
“I said would you want to go out in the boat? Get out of here?”
“Why?” My voice sounds morose.
I can feel him step a little closer. “We don’t have to. I thought you liked it. But maybe it’s not comfortable enough for—”
“Dude, just stop.”
I roll over, irritated to find his flawless face still hits me just the same as always. I sit up and try my best to look as unaffected as I can, despite the way my heart pounds.
