“Are you going to…” My voice cracks. “Die?”
He lets his shirt drop down and he steps closer. “I don’t plan on it until I’m an old man.”
Relief floods through me. I sag and let out a sigh.
“I have to eat, though.” He stands on his toes, pressing a chaste kiss on my lips like we didn’t just meet hours ago. “I’ll tell you all about it over lunch.”
I’m so stunned he kissed me, all I can do is gape at him.
I would’ve missed this.
Had I come to this stall alone, hours ago, I would’ve missed this not-so-lonely moment with a bright boy with a broken organ and a smile as big as Texas.
My own broken organ—the empty husk that was shriveling away in my chest—starts thudding hard. Blood pumps from it to my extremities, especially to my dick. Heat flames across my flesh as I blatantly stare at his pretty strawberry lips that were soft and sweet as they pressed to mine.
I want to kiss them again, I realize.
Next time, I want to part them with my own lips and taste his tongue to see if it’s like I imagine. I want to dive my fingers into his silky, bouncy hair and hold him to me. I want to run my fingertips over his hard abs and then through his trail of dark hair. I want to do a whole lot.
There’s no time.
My time ran out.
All I have is today because tomorrow is my date with Julian.
“Mom says people can’t help falling in love with me,” Kit says, his green-blue eyes twinkling. “She calls it the Strong Force.”
“Like in physics? The strong nuclear force?”
He laughs, his smile widening. “That’s right, quark.”
I try to run through what we’ve learned about it from Mr. Halston. In a nutshell, the strong force holds the nucleus together.
I’ve been splitting off and drifting in a million different directions since my brother wrapped his car around a tree. He wasn’t even supposed to be at the senior prom, but an older girl asked him to be her date. After he dropped her off, he was run off the road and hit a tree.
A drunk driver.
My brother, on prom night, wasn’t even drinking.
Another person’s mistake took my twin from me.
“Let’s go,” Kit says, unlocking the stall door.
On impulse, I reach for his hand, my fingers grasping onto his like a lifeline. I feel if he leaves me alone in this stall, I’ll finish what I wanted to start this morning. His touch is warm and comforting. I forgot what it felt like to crave another person’s touch.
His fingers thread with mine as he tugs me from the stall. I get caught up in his sunny apple scent and incessant chattering. Behind me, I leave the grief where it belongs. Alone in that stall. I’ve been haunted by the sadness for so many months that it feels relieving to untether from it. The weight that drags me under is gone. I’m floating. A balloon of lighter emotions as Kit tugs me along.
We make it into the lunchroom. The chaos pops my balloon of slight happiness, sending me deflating quickly. Kit squeezes my hand as though he knows.
I’m supposed to take him under my wing.
To look after him so he won’t get picked on.
Do the Julian thing and be a hero.
Turns out, Kit reversed the roles on me.
He’s taking care of me and I absolutely don’t know what to do about it.
Jasper
He’s so…interesting.
His mouth moves so quickly, I can barely keep up. I’ve learned his father is a microbiologist and the reason for their move. His team is studying a new species of organisms discovered on Mountain Grand Lake. His mother is a pediatric surgeon. He has four siblings, all younger. At his old school, he ran track, was on the debate team, and was in student council. When he graduates high school, he wants to go to college to study engineering because he wants to become an astronaut.
“Mom says it’s impossible. That I should become a scientist like Dad or a doctor like her.” His pink, pink strawberry lips pout out, reminding me of our quick kiss in the bathroom. “They think because of my disease, I can’t do it.”
“Can you?”
He shrugs. “Technically, you have to be in optimal health, which I’m not. But I’m only eighteen. I figure by the time I finish my endless amounts of education, there will be great strides taken for Type 1 diabetes. And then it’s off to Mars.” His grin is infectious, though a twinge of sadness pinches at my heart.
I can’t imagine wanting to do something but being physically unable. I’ve always taken my health for granted. Julian did too.
“What about you?” he asks. “What’s your future?”
A cold sense of dread washes over me. I wasn’t supposed to make it to lunch, much less ten years from now. Sure, once upon a time, I had dreams, but they turned into nightmares when I lost my brother. Then, they faded into nothing. A black void where my life ahead of me lies.
“I don’t know.”
His eyes narrow, unpeeling me layer by layer. “Everyone knows what they love. I love mysteries and science and the great unknown. I want to explore and learn. When you were a little kid, what did you tell everyone you wanted to be when you grew up?”
Julian wanted to be a policeman.
It was the only time we didn’t want to do things together. The thought of driving around town pulling people over was boring to me.
“A music teacher,” I admit, heat flooding to my neck and cheeks.
“You like music?” His green eyes light up and his teeth glint behind his smile.
“I love it.”
“So you want to teach it?”
“Back then I did. I like learning about it. Kind of like you and space, I guess. I like understanding the notes and beats. Reading beyond the lyrics. Seeing poetry in musical notes and bars. It’s kind of like science, I suppose. I’m interested in the mechanics of it.”
“Dr. Music. I like it.”
Now that he has me talking, the old me rises to the surface, eager to share something about my former self. “I have a crush on Trent Reznor. You know him?”
He cackles. “Yeah, we go way back.”
“Asshole,” I grumble, but not at all annoyed because the nerdy boy is quite beautiful to look at.
“I like his music, so yeah, I know him.”
“He’s a genius,” I explain, sitting up as familiar excitement burns through my veins. “He hears notes and makes sense of them like a scientist would data. He mixes formulas and tests the limits of sound. Every instrument is a tool for him to expand his learning. So he’s an artist, but he’s obsessed with the science of it. And that’s not even touching his lyrics.”
It makes me want to invite Kit over so he can meet my dad. I’d watched Dad’s love for music since before I could remember and was drawn to it, finding that love myself. I can almost see it. Kit in our living room as Dad plays chords on his guitar, chatting with us about the best albums of all time while Mom hovers, a smile on her lips.
My chest aches.
In the past, the other person was always Julian. Julian teasing Dad about his love for Nickelback just to get a rise out of him. Mom chiming in about Garth Brooks or Alan Jackson, making Dad and I both cringe.
The memories are cruel and the illusion of a future like them is even crueler.