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I think of passing out and Miller finding me.
Please, no.
I get the top off—somehow. I chew two. That’s a little much, but it’s a gamble. Feel like shit tomorrow so I don’t wake him tonight. The shit hits me pretty quick. Later, when my legs will hold me, I sneak into his room so I can watch him sleep. I think of slipping into his bed, but I don’t deserve it. Even if I did, I’m scared I’ll wake him with a nightmare.
I sit in my armchair and read until I fall asleep. I’m surprised I sleep until the sun wakes me up.
Josh
It’s a weird day.
He drives me to school the way he always does, but the drive is not preceded by our kitchen scene, where Ezra reads there at the table and I stand nearby drinking him in.
My mom makes waffles, but by the time I arrive downstairs, Ezra’s setting his syrupy plate in the sink.
I inhale my breakfast, looking forward—illogically—to being in the Jeep alone with him. But nothing happens in the damn Jeep. Not a single thing. It’s as if I’m being chauffeured by a stranger.
He parks where he normally does, beside a small tree that sometimes blooms with pink flowers. I’ve unbuckled and am reaching for my backpack in the floorboard when his fingers stroke my forearm. At least I think they do?
The next second, he’s out his door. Maybe I’m hallucinating. Everything about this thing with us is crazy. Every passing day, I feel more stupid for engaging in it, but how do I stop? How do I just…not want him?
Why do I want him? Maybe it would help to define that. I think on it through homeroom and first period, but all I get is a whole lot of not sure. The things I like the most about him are weird and intangible. I like that he’s into that quiet Sex After Cigarettes album. I like that he reads at the table. I like how his legs look after practice, with his quads all popped out, sheened with sweat.
I like how he kisses me. Like I’m the only thing he needs in the world.
I fucking love the way he whipped into the old ball fields and sucked my dick so hard and forceful.
More than that, I loved how he wrapped his arm around me that night on the couch. The tight hug. I love that.
I think about one of those first nights on the roof—the way I saw his fingers twitching. God, those fucking hands of his.
I just like him, okay?
Jesus, Miller.
I’m walking to the lunchroom and I’m dizzy with anticipation that he’ll be here today.
But he isn’t.
Ezra’s not in physics, either.
As soon as Bumble starts another mega-lecture, I fire off a text. ‘Hey. What’s up?’
He strolls in a second later, looking like he feels like shit. Looking hot as fuck in a gray T-shirt and some beat-up black basketball shorts and black Air Jordans.
During class, he texts back, ‘there’s no real up. we’re on a round planet that’s spinning’
When I shoot him a look, he arches one eyebrow. Nothing’s ever been so sexy.
And so it goes. Round and round, just like the world—we’re in a spiral and I’m not sure if it’s bad or good, or maybe neither.
Band practice is grueling. It’s fucking hot—like 100 degrees—and I hear whistles from the football field like always, but we’re trying this new formation, and the assistant director, Russ, is pissy. The only time we break is to drink water, and the football team is huddled up. I can’t see Ezra.
I have more head space to think of him during soccer. It comes to me as I’m driving the ball down the field. It’s a simple thought, with no emotion. Just—I wonder if I love him.
There’s no time to dwell on it. I’m so damn hot, my brain feels like it’s boiling. We stop for three water breaks—two more than normal—and then coach says he’s not feeling great and lets us all go early.
I’m so obsessed with Ezra—where he is, and what he’s doing—that I stand around shooting the shit with Brian and Eli, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. But I don’t. Where is he?
I’ve got time to shower, so I get a quick, cool one. I don’t notice till I’m dressed again that he sent a text during the last few minutes of band practice.
‘Can u see if you can get a ride home?’
My stomach does a nose-dive. I text him back. ‘Sure. What’s up?’
No answer.
Brennan takes me home in his new silver F-150. Mom and Carl aren’t home yet, so when I get inside, I take the stairs two at a time and knock on his door.
“Ezra?”
I knock again.
“Hey Ez?”
When he still doesn’t answer, I try the doorknob, find it unlocked. I push it open slowly, holding my breath. The first place my eyes go is the empty bed. Then my gaze snaps to the armchair, and my stomach drops to the floor.
