Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 71726 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71726 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Simon was rummaging for something that didn’t exist, he knew now. He’d wondered if everyone would turn out to be like Jack if he gave them the chance. But Jack was different. He hadn’t thought Simon was a freak. He hadn’t disliked him.
“That day I asked you to help me with the coffee filters? I just wanted an excuse to spend more time with you. But I hadn’t thought ahead enough to have anything to ask you.” Jack shook his head.
“I thought you were making fun of me.”
“Yeah I kinda got that. I wasn’t,” he added unnecessarily.
“You never are.”
“Simon, I... I don’t know what you want me to say. I just liked you. I thought you were interesting. And yeah, part of that is probably that you were so different. That there was no quippy banter, no empty flirting. No boring small talk. Is that...bad?”
“No. No, never.” He flopped onto his back. “Ignore me. I’m just having a thing.”
“Tell me?”
Simon searched for the thread. Searched for the part of this that Jack might understand.
“I’ve had friends. I know it seems like I don’t have any but... I’ve had friends I met online. I had friends when I was younger. But I never...”
There was no way to say this that didn’t make him come off badly, so he just said it.
“I didn’t care about them enough to—to put up with what I had to do to keep them. Making myself uncomfortable and t-taking risks. So we all just drifted. I would wish for friends—the kind of—of really close friends like on TV. The ones who feel like family—well, like family should feel.”
Simon thought of Paul, his childhood best friend who’d tried hard to keep their friendship going as they moved into middle school. He’d asked Simon to walk home with him and his other friends; he’d invited Simon to every birthday party; he’d tried to get him to try out for the school play with him. But Simon didn’t want to do any of those things—couldn’t do any of those things without a cost greater than he could afford. So he’d let Paul go.
For years he’d blamed himself for being incapable, for losing the friendship. When he was older and first starting therapy, he’d blamed Paul for not realizing that all of his overtures were tuned to the wrong channel. Now he knew it wasn’t either of their faults. Simon was himself and Paul was an oblivious kid.
Paul had gone to college in Colorado and Simon had never seen him again. But he still thought of him every year on his birthday: August 11. He still remembered his home phone number.
Simon gathered his thoughts.
“It’s different with you,” he told Jack. “B-because it’s worth it to...” He was going to say suffer but that wasn’t right. “Worth it to try and push myself if it means I get to...have you?”
He hadn’t meant it to come out as a question.
“You do,” Jack said, avid, pulling Simon on top of him. “You do have me, baby. I swear. It’s different for me too. I’ve never...” He shivered. “I’ve never felt like this about anyone. I... Shit.”
He wrapped his arms so tight around Simon that for a moment he thought Jack might press them together into one body.
Simon had been going to say that it felt worth it to try and push himself if it meant he got to have Jack, but that he worried he wouldn’t be able to push himself far enough for it to work.
Simon kissed him instead. He kissed him with every ounce of energy he had left, and Jack kissed him right back.
Chapter Fourteen
Jack
Jack groaned in relief as the cast fell away, then recoiled as the smell hit.
“Jesus Christ, am I rotting?”
“Perfectly normal,” the orthopedist said absently. “Oils and sweat and skin collect between your leg and the casting and form a layer of yeasty—”
“Okay, yep, got it,” Jack interrupted. “Shower thoroughly. Noted. So when can I...do stuff?”
“What stuff are you referring to?”
Jack gritted his teeth to hold back his irritation. No bedside manner-having asshat.
He’d been waiting for the doctor for hours and was at the end of his tether even before the person who’d shown up had turned out to have all the compassion and humor of a nail protruding from a floorboard.
“Drive, walk, run, fuck my boyfriend hard in positions that require two legs, et cetera.”
Welp, never mind about holding back the irritation.
The doctor cleared his throat. “Drive, as soon as the stiffness in your leg has eased. You can walk now. Short distances. Build up slowly. You’ll want to build up strength for several weeks before you begin jogging, then jog at a light pace before running in six to eight weeks.”
He sniffed and gathered his clipboard.
“The nurse will be in with a printout of exercises to strengthen the limb and your walking boot.”