every morning after my shower. There is nothing special about me . . . he couldn’t possibly see something I don’t. Ryan slowly leans forward and my heart speeds up. Darklily loudly clears her throat.
“I’m hungry. Lissa if you could let me outside I’d really appreciate it,” Dark says.
I’m going to get that cat. “Sure, Dark,” I answer tightly.
I open one of the back doors then shut it behind us. I glare at Dark. “What did you do that for?” I hiss. “You couldn’t have let yourself out?”
“I was doing you a favor,” Dark says simply.
“Favor?”
Darklily nods. “Males aren’t worth it. You’ll see, I’m trying to spare you the pain.”
“They’re my lips, I think I can decide if he’s worth it or not!”
“You weren’t deciding. You were feeling.” Dark twitches an ear and walks into the night. My darker side considers shoving her, but I close the door and stand in front of it, letting my anger and the after effect of the previous moment dissipate. I had been so close to getting my first kiss. I’m not sure if I feel elated or—I hate to admit it—nervous. Dark had ruined it though. On purpose. And that made me angry no matter how confused I am about how I feel. Now the moment is gone. I give myself a shake and head back upstairs.
Ryan is staring out the window, his gaze focused on something only he can see. He jumps when I come in.
“Do you have any paper and pencils or pens?” Ryan asks, his voice somewhat unsteady.
“Yeah.” I go to my shelf and open a black box. I hand him a pad of paper and a tin box of pencils. Ryan’s eyes widen a bit after he takes off the lid.
“I can’t use these.”
“Why not?”
“These are really good drawing pencils,” Ryan says, his voice verging on anticipation though he’s trying to hide it.
“I hardly ever use them so it’s fine.”
Ryan doesn’t need anymore convincing. He eagerly takes them then lies down on the floor, spreading the paper in front of him. He’s dead still for a moment then starts making gentle lines. I go to my bookshelf and pull out Black Beauty , just opening it to a random page. I lean against my bed, opposite Ryan. His eyes are glued to the paper. I try to concentrate on the words, but my mind won’t settle. I feel like I have to talk to him. Ask him things. Get his opinion and perspective on everything. I feel like if I don’t take the opportunity now I won’t get another.
“Ryan?”
“Yes?”
“What is your family like? If you don’t mind my asking,” I add quickly.
Ryan looks up at me. “My family . . .” Ryan picks at the edge of the paper. “It’s not something to be envied. My father is kind of messed up and he’s all I’ve got left.”
“Oh. Ryan you don’t—”
“No. I want to. Everyone always makes assumptions, but has never out right asked. They always give me these looks of pity. And I understand—but I still . . . it doesn’t help.” Ryan pauses, taking a shallow breath. “Dad’s a drunk, abusive. An hour rarely passes by when he’s not drunk. He seems to live for making life miserable for me.
My older brother, Randy, he moved out when my mom got married to Dad but he would always visit . . . then one day he just stopped coming—I don’t know why. Then Mom died and Dad seemed to wake up after that—for a while anyway. He was able to curb his drinking enough so that he only drank a few hours a night. He got a part-time job. He was even able to get us an apartment. I stayed with him. I had no other choice. I was young I had nothing. I was afraid of being by myself. Afraid of . . .”
My hands clutch the book harder. I want to take his hand. I should. But the strong force that had pulsed between us earlier makes me hesitant. The more I touch, think about, and create memories with Ryan; the deeper I sink into this unfamiliar world. But Ryan needs to be comforted. True. The last thing I want to do is hold back comfort if I can give it to someone who needs
“I’m hungry. Lissa if you could let me outside I’d really appreciate it,” Dark says.
I’m going to get that cat. “Sure, Dark,” I answer tightly.
I open one of the back doors then shut it behind us. I glare at Dark. “What did you do that for?” I hiss. “You couldn’t have let yourself out?”
“I was doing you a favor,” Dark says simply.
“Favor?”
Darklily nods. “Males aren’t worth it. You’ll see, I’m trying to spare you the pain.”
“They’re my lips, I think I can decide if he’s worth it or not!”
“You weren’t deciding. You were feeling.” Dark twitches an ear and walks into the night. My darker side considers shoving her, but I close the door and stand in front of it, letting my anger and the after effect of the previous moment dissipate. I had been so close to getting my first kiss. I’m not sure if I feel elated or—I hate to admit it—nervous. Dark had ruined it though. On purpose. And that made me angry no matter how confused I am about how I feel. Now the moment is gone. I give myself a shake and head back upstairs.
Ryan is staring out the window, his gaze focused on something only he can see. He jumps when I come in.
“Do you have any paper and pencils or pens?” Ryan asks, his voice somewhat unsteady.
“Yeah.” I go to my shelf and open a black box. I hand him a pad of paper and a tin box of pencils. Ryan’s eyes widen a bit after he takes off the lid.
“I can’t use these.”
“Why not?”
“These are really good drawing pencils,” Ryan says, his voice verging on anticipation though he’s trying to hide it.
“I hardly ever use them so it’s fine.”
Ryan doesn’t need anymore convincing. He eagerly takes them then lies down on the floor, spreading the paper in front of him. He’s dead still for a moment then starts making gentle lines. I go to my bookshelf and pull out Black Beauty , just opening it to a random page. I lean against my bed, opposite Ryan. His eyes are glued to the paper. I try to concentrate on the words, but my mind won’t settle. I feel like I have to talk to him. Ask him things. Get his opinion and perspective on everything. I feel like if I don’t take the opportunity now I won’t get another.
“Ryan?”
“Yes?”
“What is your family like? If you don’t mind my asking,” I add quickly.
Ryan looks up at me. “My family . . .” Ryan picks at the edge of the paper. “It’s not something to be envied. My father is kind of messed up and he’s all I’ve got left.”
“Oh. Ryan you don’t—”
“No. I want to. Everyone always makes assumptions, but has never out right asked. They always give me these looks of pity. And I understand—but I still . . . it doesn’t help.” Ryan pauses, taking a shallow breath. “Dad’s a drunk, abusive. An hour rarely passes by when he’s not drunk. He seems to live for making life miserable for me.
My older brother, Randy, he moved out when my mom got married to Dad but he would always visit . . . then one day he just stopped coming—I don’t know why. Then Mom died and Dad seemed to wake up after that—for a while anyway. He was able to curb his drinking enough so that he only drank a few hours a night. He got a part-time job. He was even able to get us an apartment. I stayed with him. I had no other choice. I was young I had nothing. I was afraid of being by myself. Afraid of . . .”
My hands clutch the book harder. I want to take his hand. I should. But the strong force that had pulsed between us earlier makes me hesitant. The more I touch, think about, and create memories with Ryan; the deeper I sink into this unfamiliar world. But Ryan needs to be comforted. True. The last thing I want to do is hold back comfort if I can give it to someone who needs
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