“Not like I planned on it.” My heart has to catch up with everything around me, and then I realize just how close we are to each other. “Okay, I think I’ve seen enough.” I close my eyes. “Can we go back inside now?”
“Not even close.” He steadies me. “You good?”
I try to get used to standing at an angle while also ignoring certain death below me. “Maybe it’s the alcohol?”
“Come on, you had one shot like an hour ago. You aren’t drunk.” I feel his hands vanish before one of them settles on my own, his long fingers wrapping around like they belong. I glance down and then back up at him.
“What are you—”
“This way.” He leads me around to this spot between two of the windows that poke through the roof. Thankfully this part is pretty flat, so it’s nothing to navigate, even in the dark. Nathan sits down like he’s done this hundreds of times before, and I don’t doubt that he has. He spreads his legs out and rests his head against the part where the steeper angle of the roof meets.
“Come on.” He pats the empty space beside him.
I do what he says, careful to watch where I step. I doubt Nathan can make it up in time to save me again. “Is this what you wanted to show me?”
“You showed me your quiet place.”
“My quiet place?” I rest the same way he does, my back against the roof, but I tuck my legs in instead.
“The quad.”
“Oh, that’s not really …” I mean, I guess it is, even if I’m not always alone while I’m there.
“This is mine,” he continues. “When everything gets too loud or gets to be too much, this is where I go.” He lifts his head and stares toward the sky. The light pollution from the skyscrapers nearby hides most of the stars, but the ones that manage to poke through are so bright that you don’t really mind.
“It’s nice,” I say, adjusting so a shingle will stop stabbing me in the back.
“Mom nearly had a heart attack when she saw me up here the first time.”
“You have to admit that the quad is a lot safer.”
“Can’t argue.” He folds his arms and tucks them behind his head. “I’m sorry for tonight.”
“It’s whatever, not your fault.”
“I thought it would be fun.”
I shrug.
“You want to talk about it?”
Not really, but what else is there to discuss? “My doctor says they’re panic attacks. I …” Here it comes, the truth. I try to think up a lie. Some childhood trauma that causes them, but I really don’t want to lie to Nathan, not about this, at least. “My parents kicked me out of my house …”
It feels like the night I came out to Mom and Dad. When the truth was on my tongue for days, weeks even, just waiting to come out until I was worrying myself sick over it. And I knew I had to say it. Because it was all supposed to be fine.
We sit there. I know I shouldn’t have told him, but I guess part of me is tired of lying to him. At least about this. It feels like time stops moving, like now I’m frozen in this spot forever, never able to escape. I silently beg Nathan to say something, anything at all. Just break this silence, please.
“Oh,” he finally says after what feels like a century. “That really fucking sucks.”
“Yeah.” Of everything I expected, that wasn’t really on the list.
“That’s terrible.” I watch his throat bob, the rise and fall of his chest.
I take a deep breath. “I live with my sister now. She’s married to Thomas, Mr. Waller. He helped me get into Wake.”
“What happened?”
“I did something I shouldn’t have, made a big mistake.” And paid the price for it.
“Big enough to get forced out of your house?”
“Apparently.”
“Do you still love them?” Nathan asks. “Your parents?”
The question actually takes me off guard. “I … I don’t know,” I tell him.
I don’t. I really don’t. I wish the answer was easy, but it isn’t. How can you not love your parents? Even after everything they did, I have a problem saying it out loud. Maybe I don’t love them; maybe they don’t deserve that love anymore.
I think I might.
And I think I might hate them too.
One thing I do know is that I miss them. I don’t know why, but I do.
I hate that I do.
Nathan does this little nod and lets out this really slow breath.
I can hear him move, watch his hand slip from behind his head, and move down quickly until it settles across mine, and our fingers mix together again. I don’t even fight it, because for once, another person touching me like this doesn’t make me sick to my stomach. “No one should have to go through that,” he adds, like it’s an afterthought, but really, just the idea of him being here is enough right now.
“Can we talk about something else?” I ask. “Please.”
“Anything else?”
I just nod.
“I’ve got this English paper I need to start on.”
“Aren’t we supposed to be on break?”
That makes him laugh. “Be glad you never had Cooper. Might as well get a head start on it though.”
“What’s it on?”
“The Crucible.”
“Witches, stoning, and drowning. Fun times.”
“Mr. Cooper’s letting us pick our own topics, and I got nothing. At least it’s not due until after break.”
“Such a procrastinator,” I tease.
“It’d be easier if there was more gay subtext.”
I let out something between a scoff and a snort. “I’m almost afraid to ask.”
“In tenth grade we read this book about a gang of boys, and two of them were obviously in love, but my teacher turned down my idea for an essay on their relationship.”
“Always stifling creativity.” Two boys, huh? Well, at least he’s comfortable with queer guys.
“Can’t spell ‘subtext’ without ‘butt sex.’” He’s laughing so hard that he can barely get the words out, and that makes me laugh. And after a few seconds we’re both struggling to catch our breath, all the while, our hands never leaving each other’s.
“Do you know anything about astronomy?” he asks when we’ve both gone totally quiet.
“Not a lot. Why? Oh, tell me you’re a total astronomy nerd, please.”
“Let’s see.” Nathan points toward the sky and begins to draw an invisible outline. “You see that there? That’s Orion. And if you follow the belt there, it leads you right to Leo.” I try my best to follow his pattern, but with all the light pollution, it’s nearly impossible.
“And that’s Sirius.” He outlines something else I can’t make out.
“How can you even tell?” I ask.
“I have a secret method.”
“And that is?”
He leans in closer and whispers, “I’m making it all up.”
“You ass.” I want to shove him, but that would require the hand that his is currently occupying, and there’s no chance I’m giving this up. Not right now.