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He coughs out a strained sound that’s meant to be a laugh. “In college I spent every night cleaning science labs and photocopying handouts for extra credit because my teachers were trying to help me not flunk out. I practiced the LSAT three times more than everyone else just to earn a shitty score that wouldn’t have gotten me anywhere if they hadn’t offered me some pity scholarship.” Standing up, he carefully puts the page back on the stack and straightens them into a neat pile. “When I was little, I used to pray and ask God why I had to be stupid and lazy when everyone else wasn’t.” He flashes me a wobbly smile. “Five minutes, huh?”
I sit down in my chair to stop myself from going over to him where he stands framed in the hazy, watery autumn light through the window. He’s staring at his feet now, shifting uneasily. “I’m sorry, do you mind if I go home early? I don’t mean to be rude after you did such a nice thing for me, but I need some time to think.”
“Of course, go ahead.”
He nods, chewing his lip, then grabs his bag and ducks out the door without a word.
The office seems eerily quiet as I make a few calls and finish my preparations for visiting Oliver tomorrow. A familiar urge creeps up inside me, the desire to just keep working until it’s so late that the person waiting for me at home has gone to bed and I don’t have to figure out what to say to them.
I sit back and look out the window. There’s a pigeon nestled in the corner of the outer sill, feathers fluffed up against the breeze.
I’m the lord of the pigeons.
It watches me without blinking as I switch off my computer and gather my things to go home.
Jonah
Gray comes downstairs and watches me from the doorway of his home gym. I got changed to go for a run, but I’m just sitting on the treadmill, staring out at the view.
“You won’t get very far like that.”
I laugh a little, patting the rubbery belt under my ass. “It’s like a metaphor for my life. Wait, is that right? What’s a metaphor again?”
“You’re the sun through the trees after a storm.”
I turn around. “Huh?”
“That’s a metaphor.” He’s still wearing a button down and slacks, but he has a mug of coffee and sock feet and slightly mussed hair.
“Oh. Thanks.” I don’t know if I’m thanking him for the not-very-clear explanation or for calling me whatever it was he just tried to call me.
He comes into the room and leans against the side of the treadmill, looking down at me while I ignore that his crotch is currently at my eye level.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” I offer. We both stare at my hand as I slide my thumb in between each of my fingers, one side to the other and back again. “I wasn’t mad at you. It’s not your fault I grew up in a place where most people would thinkdyslexiais some kind of cow dewormer and the solution to everything from bad grades to dying of cancer is to shut up and try harder.”
I’m close enough to hear his quiet huff of laughter. When I glance up, he’s rubbing his knuckles across his mouth, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he studies the floor next to my feet. “I want you to know…” He clears his throat. “I wouldn’t be able to do what you’ve done, Jonah—graduating college, passing the LSAT—under those circumstances. Not in a million years. You have more determination and strength of character at twenty-four than I’ve had in my entire life.” His voice speeds up. “It’s admirable, and I don’t want to hear whatever self-deprecating bullshit is about to come out of your mouth, so I suggest you say nothing at all.”
A genuine smile tugs at my face for the first time today, maybe the first time this week, and his mouth quirks wryly. It feels like coming home. “I wish they made books with print like that. The literature class assignments in high school looked really interesting, but it took me as long to get through the Cliffs Notes as it took everyone else to read the book.”
“Do you—” He stops abruptly, burying the end of his sentence in a gulp of coffee.
“What?”
“Never mind.”
“Come on, tell me.” I lean back and crane my neck to get a better view of his face.
“It’s nothing. Just—I guess we could put on an audiobook in the evenings sometimes, or I could read to…” His sentence gets quieter and quieter until the last few words fade away behind a grim, tortured expression that I think might be Gray’s equivalent of blushing.
“Hey.” I scramble to my feet, because I can’t fucking think at head height with his dick. “Thank you.”
He shrugs, fiddling with the safety cord from the treadmill, coiling it neatly and tucking it into the cupholder. “It was just a piece of paper.”
The asshole knows perfectly well that’s not what I’m talking about, but I give up. “Just…thanks.” Before my brain can catch up, I step forward and pull him into the world’s most awkward half-hug, the kind straight bros do when they’re trying to avoid too much body contact, right down to the little back pat. I can feel his shoulders stiffen.
“Anyway.” I almost trip on the edge of a rubber floor mat as I scoot back to create some distance. “I should actually work out, huh?”
My words wobble when his fingers find my jaw, catching against my stubble. We just stand like that for a long moment, his eyes holding mine. “You’re a force of nature,” he says, very seriously. “Nothing can break you.”
