my head, knowing how stupid it sounds, but I feel it pressing in on me even as I say it. “A really big, sharp, nasty boulder that won’t let me breathe. Something’s coming. I don’t know how I know, but—”
“No,” he interrupts, “it doesn’t matter how you know.” He leans toward me and props his elbow on his knee, threading his fingers into mine. “If your gut is telling you something’s coming, trust it.”
I nod, suddenly knowing what I need to say. “So, I need your help.”
Surprise flashes across his face, then his expression grows somber. “What do you need from me?”
This is hard, and all I can do is hope he understands. “I need your support, but I can’t be … with you…” His eyes cloud and I quickly add, “ Either of you … right now. I need to keep my head clear—to think. Which I can’t do very well when we’re … you know.” Heat prickles my face at the memory of him pressed against me in his bed, the feel of his skin on mine, and I’m sure I’m beet red.
The hint of a wistful smile turns the corners of his lips and my heart feels suddenly lighter. I didn’t realize how heavily all of this was weighing on me until just this second. But, if he understands … if we can at least be friends again …
And if I’m wrong, and at the end of this I’m actually still alive, maybe someday we can be more.
But not until I know for sure.
I shift closer to him on the couch and he looks up at me. He lifts his hand and smooths my tears away with the tips of his fingers.
“I love you.” It’s out of my mouth before I realize I mean to say it.
He closes his eyes and leans his forehead into mine, letting out a shaky breath.
“But I need to be on my own,” I add, lower. “To figure things out.”
His forehead shifts on mine, a nod. He pulls away and looks down at me, and there’s the smallest of sad smiles on his face. “As you wish.”
LUC
She pulls herself from my grasp, and, as much as it hurts, I force myself to let her go. “I’ll get us something to eat,” I say, standing from the couch. I head to the kitchen and make sandwiches, more for the distraction than out of any actual need for food, and then we eat at the table. We don’t talk, but the whole time Frannie keeps shooting glances my way—which I notice because I can’t take my eyes off her.
When we get the dishes put away, she wipes down the counters as I ease into the couch and click on the TV. Surfing the channels, it becomes clear why I’ve never bothered with a TV before, and I punch it off, tossing the remote to the coffee table with a clatter.
I look at her as she settles into the couch next to me. “Make me want to turn that back on,” I say.
Her face pulls into a puzzled squint. “What?”
I raise an eyebrow at her. “Your Sway. You need to practice.” I feel a smile tick at my mouth. “Guinea pig at your service.”
She nods, then stares at me intently. But what I feel isn’t a compulsion to pick up the remote. What I feel is an overpowering need to stroke her face—to kiss her. I pull a shaky breath, and she notices.
The look on her face is all the confirmation I need that I wasn’t crazy. She wanted that as much as I did. I buzz all over with my need to scoop her into my arms and carry her into the bedroom. But what she said earlier is true. This isn’t the right time.
Her eyes drop to her hands. “Sorry.”
“I’m not,” I answer and offer up a reassuring smile.
“I really suck at this.” She doesn’t look up as she says it.
“You know your Sway is strongest when it comes from your heart. For now, while you’re learning, if you tie what you need to have happen to something you care about, it will be easier.”
“Or someone?” Her eyes lift to mine and a shudder sweeps through me.
I nod. “Or someone.”
“I think you’re right. When it worked on that little boy on the beach earlier, I was thinking of my sisters.”
“It comes from here,” I say,
“No,” he interrupts, “it doesn’t matter how you know.” He leans toward me and props his elbow on his knee, threading his fingers into mine. “If your gut is telling you something’s coming, trust it.”
I nod, suddenly knowing what I need to say. “So, I need your help.”
Surprise flashes across his face, then his expression grows somber. “What do you need from me?”
This is hard, and all I can do is hope he understands. “I need your support, but I can’t be … with you…” His eyes cloud and I quickly add, “ Either of you … right now. I need to keep my head clear—to think. Which I can’t do very well when we’re … you know.” Heat prickles my face at the memory of him pressed against me in his bed, the feel of his skin on mine, and I’m sure I’m beet red.
The hint of a wistful smile turns the corners of his lips and my heart feels suddenly lighter. I didn’t realize how heavily all of this was weighing on me until just this second. But, if he understands … if we can at least be friends again …
And if I’m wrong, and at the end of this I’m actually still alive, maybe someday we can be more.
But not until I know for sure.
I shift closer to him on the couch and he looks up at me. He lifts his hand and smooths my tears away with the tips of his fingers.
“I love you.” It’s out of my mouth before I realize I mean to say it.
He closes his eyes and leans his forehead into mine, letting out a shaky breath.
“But I need to be on my own,” I add, lower. “To figure things out.”
His forehead shifts on mine, a nod. He pulls away and looks down at me, and there’s the smallest of sad smiles on his face. “As you wish.”
LUC
She pulls herself from my grasp, and, as much as it hurts, I force myself to let her go. “I’ll get us something to eat,” I say, standing from the couch. I head to the kitchen and make sandwiches, more for the distraction than out of any actual need for food, and then we eat at the table. We don’t talk, but the whole time Frannie keeps shooting glances my way—which I notice because I can’t take my eyes off her.
When we get the dishes put away, she wipes down the counters as I ease into the couch and click on the TV. Surfing the channels, it becomes clear why I’ve never bothered with a TV before, and I punch it off, tossing the remote to the coffee table with a clatter.
I look at her as she settles into the couch next to me. “Make me want to turn that back on,” I say.
Her face pulls into a puzzled squint. “What?”
I raise an eyebrow at her. “Your Sway. You need to practice.” I feel a smile tick at my mouth. “Guinea pig at your service.”
She nods, then stares at me intently. But what I feel isn’t a compulsion to pick up the remote. What I feel is an overpowering need to stroke her face—to kiss her. I pull a shaky breath, and she notices.
The look on her face is all the confirmation I need that I wasn’t crazy. She wanted that as much as I did. I buzz all over with my need to scoop her into my arms and carry her into the bedroom. But what she said earlier is true. This isn’t the right time.
Her eyes drop to her hands. “Sorry.”
“I’m not,” I answer and offer up a reassuring smile.
“I really suck at this.” She doesn’t look up as she says it.
“You know your Sway is strongest when it comes from your heart. For now, while you’re learning, if you tie what you need to have happen to something you care about, it will be easier.”
“Or someone?” Her eyes lift to mine and a shudder sweeps through me.
I nod. “Or someone.”
“I think you’re right. When it worked on that little boy on the beach earlier, I was thinking of my sisters.”
“It comes from here,” I say,
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