Chapter 7

Seven

Josh

I wake up to Ezra. I’m looking up at him from below his sharp jaw and thick throat. I feel his arms around me…because I’m lying in his lap.

We’re on my bed. I slide my gaze around my room. I can see the glowing light of early morning streaming through my window.

Last night, I just walked upstairs and came to bed, right? Why is my heart racing right now? And why is he in here?

Ezra looks down at me—all eyes.

“What happened?” I manage.

“I don’t know.” His voice is quiet. “Think you might have had a nightmare. I was up already, so I heard you.”

Ohh yeah. I remember. I had a dream about having a seizure. I was playing soccer and…

I swallow to keep my eyes from welling up, and his hand comes to my face. “Sore from when you fell in the shower?” He looks different than the asshole from last night—sympathetic, like he cares.

I nod, biting on the inside of my cheek hard enough so I won’t cry in front of him. Even the nod makes my neck ache.

His arms loosen their grip on me. “Lie on your stomach, or your side if you want to.”

I get on my stomach with my arms above my head. Shiiit , everything hurts. I think there’s a bruise on my shoulder, but I don’t know. Cutting my eyes back that far to see it in the mirror hurts, too.

His hand touches the spot, which I guess he can see because I pulled my shirt off last night before crawling into bed. “You fell back to the left, I think.” His low, soft voice seems to move through my chest. He touches the spot again. Then his hand moves up my nape and into my hair. “That hurt there, too?”

Ouch—it fucking does.

He sifts through my hair, and then his fingers start to rub my neck. God, it feels so good. How does he know what to do?

A little groan comes from my throat. His hand stops. “Hurt?”

“No.”

He starts again, squeezing my nape then rubbing downward in smooth, firm strokes, massaging with the pads of his fingers—just hard enough. I can’t help myself; I’m breathing hard from how good it feels. His fingers work their way down toward my shoulders, and I start to tell him easy on the left one. But before I can, he murmurs, “I know. Little bit of a bruise…” His fingertip trails lightly over it.

He rubs my other shoulder and all down my spine. He’s a fucking masseuse.

“Feels good,” I moan.

When he reaches my lower back, he moves back up—all the way up, back behind my ears, where his fingertips move circular and gentle. I’m half asleep when his hand scoops upward through my hair, ruffling it lightly. Then he’s off the bed. His low voice says, “Getting some donuts. Be back.”

I reach under myself, squeezing my dick, which is aching from just his hands on me in any way. Even though he said he wouldn’t…anymore. I shut my eyes, remembering him shaking me awake in his Jeep last night.

“We’re home, Millsy.” I was fucking out of it. Just got too tired at the cabin. Seeing him with Cara made me feel like shit. Arnie told me I should go to the University of Alabama, that he’d fucked more guys in two weeks than he thought he would in his entire life. That made me feel worse.

So I was in a crap place when Ezra woke me up in his Jeep. He tried to spot me as I got out. Then, right before we reached the porch steps, he wrapped his arm around my lower back. He opened the door for me and followed me up the stairs, asking if I needed anything before I came in here to my room.

I look around now, spotting a glass of water with a straw on the nightstand, so I figure he must have left it for me.

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 we 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 this 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.

“I don’t want to go out with you. I don’t want to be in with you. I’m fucking from here, brother. I have friends. If I want to go somewhere, I’ll call one of them.”

I can see him absorb my words. His face turns unhappy, something changing in the eyes and in the set of his mouth.

“Okay then.” He disappears into the hall, shutting my door behind him.

Ezra

I stand in the hall between our bedrooms, looking down at the stuff by my feet. There’s two bags of Cheetos, two packs of Bubble Yum, another Icee, and some of that sugary powder stuff you eat with the vanilla-flavored dipsticks. Brennan told me he likes that.

I got it when I went out to get the donuts, but I felt weird giving it to him all at once.

I lean my back against the wall. Put my hand over my chest.

I can feel my heartbeat .

I don't like it when it beats fast. Makes me have to breathe in through my nose and blow it out my mouth.

I try it, but I can’t breathe .

I sit on the top stair, put my head down on my knees, and when that doesn't work, I lie back on the carpet in front of his door and try to look down at the skylight. I can see the shadows from the clouds over the sun. I watch them until my eyes shut. There's still light, I tell myself. I can see it through my eyelids. Never that dark, Ezra… It’s okay.

My heart rate slows, and now I’m tired. Didn’t sleep last night because I knew he’d hear me screaming. Then he wouldn’t get to sleep. And he needs sleep.

I hear DG move on his bed.

I reach my arm out toward his door and brush it with my fingertips.

I’m sorry.

I think of the lake water. What it looked like from under the surface. All that roiling… And I kicked up .

My throat aches as I think of Miller climbing up onto the trestle with me. I can still see his eyes, wide with terror.

I fucked that up. I thought he would leave. When he didn’t and the train got way too close, I panicked and shoved him.

I had worked myself up that day. All day, driving down from Richmond, trying to decide how. And then I got to Fairplay and my dad texted. He said, ‘We can’t wait to see you’ and I just…drove to his house.

I got inside, and they told me about Josh. He and his friends, and where they might be, underneath the trestle bridge or out by some snake island. They told me how high the bridge was, how some trains still used it. And that got me thinking.

When I got there onto the bridge and saw that Josh and his friends weren’t there, I realized it was the right time. Finally.

I felt brave as I walked on it. Peaceful, too. I was glad that it was going to be over. I said one last prayer—I remember it being " please find me”—whatever that meant in my head at the time—and then I dove. With my shoes on.

I hit the surface hard enough to knock the air out of my lungs, and I sunk deep. I kicked once or twice, my body moving out of instinct. Then for a second I was in the depths, suspended, looking at the light show of the sunlight on the surface. That's the last thing I remember clearly. I think my body inhaled without my consent, and I got a chest full of lake water.

I don't remember kicking to the surface. I remember hands on me. And how ironic that he calls me angel face, because I thought he was an angel.

Only for a second. Then my body started flipping out from all the water in my lungs. I thought I was dying.

As soon as my head cleared, I realized I had failed, and the first thing I thought was that I wanted to try again. My head still felt dizzy, so I figured another go, and I wouldn't come up. It was so weird. Reckless in a way that felt...invigorating.

"I think you're a twisted fucker. I think you do it for the power feeling."

I smile as I drift closer to sleep—here on the floor.

Fucked up fucker.

Just don't want Mills to get fucked up.

I reach behind me, grabbing the Icee cup. Press the thing to my cheek. The outside of the cup is damp.

Wake up , I tell myself.

I'm so comfortable, though. Knowing he's right there behind the closed door.

I think of his arm over me, when he would climb into my bed. Feeling his hands on my shoulders.

And the few times I was so head-fucked, I latched onto him. I remember how his arms would come around me, his hand cupping my head.