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Jolene is asleep when I return in my T-shirt and briefs. I leave the door open, allowing a bit of light in from the living room, in case she wakes up disoriented. The soft glow makes her face look younger. Her fanned eyelashes rest delicately on her cheeks.
I’m suddenly not tired at all.
I could watch a sleeping Jolene all night. Subscribe to this station. Marvel at the soft parting of her lips, the way her haphazard hair decorates her pillow, knowing my best friend is safe and protected with me near, like our early days in the tree house.
Maybe sleeping in her bed won’t be so tough after all.
Quietly, I lift the sheets and slide under, shifting on my side to face her. As run-down as I am, I doubt I’ll sleep a minute. This might be the only time I ever share a bed with Jo as an adult.
Contentment sinks through me as I watch her. A peace I haven’t felt in a long while.
I feel myself smile, basking in a fantasy I shouldn’t indulge—Jolene and me sleeping like this every night, but not quite like this. Her head on my chest. My leg slung over hers, my hands drawing soothing patterns on her back as we talk into the night. We fall asleep together. Wake up together. Cook breakfast. Go for a walk in town. Play soccer. Hang out with friends and come home to her chaos, where I’ll tease her for being a human hurricane and she’ll needle me for working too hard and we’ll make love like we have all the time in the world, then do it all over again the next day.
“Cal?” Jo’s eyes flutter open, and I feel exposed. Caught.
“Didn’t mean to wake you,” I whisper.
She licks her lips, like they’re parched.
“Are you thirsty?” I ask. “I can get you water.”
I start to get up, but she places her hand on my arm. “I’m really sorry.”
The heaviness in her voice stops me, as does her imploring glance. “It’s okay, you weren’t snoring that loudly.”
She smiles at my joke but still looks sad. “About my apartment, the things I said.”
“Please don’t apologize,” I say, wishing I could redo that whole conversation. “Whatever you felt—whatever youfeel—is real and valid. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“It’s not that.” She shakes her head and worries her lip. “I mean,it is. I’m embarrassed about blurting out my heart, but I’m also kind of appalled with myself. You…” She pushes her hand in between mine. A tender hand sandwich as we lie on our sides, facing each other. “All you do is think and worry about others, but all I’ve been thinking about since the Yard Goat isme. WhatIwant. WhatI’mfeeling. I let my imagination run away with me, assuming you felt the same as me, and I’m scared I ruined everything now. That I’ll lose you as a friend. I can’t lose you, Cal.”
“You won’t lose me. Ever.” But her confession hurts more than heals. She ran away from me and fell because I lied. She might have a concussion because I wasn’t strong enough to tell her how I truly feel. What if my continued silence festers and grows and really does dissolve the rest of our relationship?
I drag in a ragged breath, suddenly realizing I haven’t been breathing. “Jolene…”
“Yeah?”
“I…” Can’t speak. My shoulders are bunched up. Clammy sweat grips the back of my neck.
“Cal.” She squeezes my hands tighter. “What is it?”
“You’re not wrong,” I say in a rush. “Your imagination, what you said about my feelings—none of it was wrong.”
She inhales sharply, more tears gathering in her eyes. “I wasn’t?”
I shake my head. “I’m an asshole. Haven’t handled this well. I pushed you away when I first moved back, avoided you since the Yard Goat. Everything’s been so intense, but my fear of hurting Jake is just as strong. It all messed with my head. I should’ve been more honest with you from the start.”
She shifts closer. “If you’d been more honest, what would you have said?”
“You really want to know?” Better question…can we handle airing more truth?
“I do.”
“Why?”
“I don’t like living with unknowns—questioning myself and my feelings because I’m getting mixed signals. I don’t trust that this isn’t a dream.”
All I’ve given her are mixed signals. Smoke signals. Unattainable messages that disperse into the sky, their meaning lost to the clouds. “Some signals are better left in the dark.”
