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y on the sofa.
Frank was happy Oliver was there. It would be worse, he thought, if he’d bee
n completely alone. He suddenly stopped, allowed his breathing to slow, and
looked over his friend. Oliver’s ice had melted, and he was regarding the ba
g as if it had betrayed him. Frank found himself smiling at that, and feelin
g guilty. He opened his mouth to ask Oliver if he was alright, but suddenly
Oliver’s eyes lifted to meet his.
“You didn’t tell your mom it was David,” he said, as if he’d sensed that Fra
nk was finally calm enough to talk.
Frank frowned. “Was it him?”
Oliver lowered his head, his brow knitted, and after a long moment of consid
eration, Frank decided that he simply didn’t know. He sighed, and joined the
other boy on the sofa where he rested his head back against the thick cushi
ons and closed his eyes. He could hear the natural creaks in the house, and
somewhere in the distance, the purring of a cat and the hum of the dishwashe
r. They didn’t strike him as comforting sounds. “Some freak has a picture of
my sister,” he said quietly. It was wondering over the content of that pict
ure that had him worried, but he was afraid to even think about it, let alon
e say it out loud. It was all too frustrating. There was too much going on.
He’d been worried about Oliver. Now, he was worried about his own family. He
didn’t get this place. He didn’t know if he wanted to. “I hate it here.”
Frank felt the cushions beneath him shift, and didn’t react when he felt hi
s companion’s head rest slowly and gently on his shoulder, but when he felt
Oliver’s hand climb over his own, Frank opened his eyes and watched the ot
her boy’s fingers play over his palm. “Don’t say that, Frank,” Oliver insis
ted. “You’re my only friend.”
Frank looked down at the top of Oliver’s head at the messy dark hair and inha
led the scent of fresh lemons. He swallowed tightly, and without thought, fou
nd himself snuggling in closer to the warm body at his side as his hand close
d over Oliver’s. “Right now I think you’re mine, too,” he admitted, suddenly
resenting everyone that used to be in his life. He blamed his father for the
situation that he found himself in with his mother and his sister. It was his
fault that they had to move away from all their friends. It was his fault th
at they had to live in a run-down dump that smelled like cat urine. And it wa
s his fault that the dump they had to live in didn’t feel safe. Because it ce
rtainly wasn’t Frank’s fault that he felt so out of sorts. He’d been uprooted
, and now more than ever, he was feeling it. Between his mom working and havi
ng to help out around the house, making new friends, building a new life--it
had all become a difficult task. A lonely task, since he hadn’t even heard ba
ck from any of the friends he’d written to, another thing that Frank resented
. At the moment, besides his mom and his sister, Frank truly felt that Oliver
was his only friend, and that small detail did a lot of explaining as to why
Frank was feeling protective of that friendship... and of Oliver.
Oliver suddenly lifted his head, turning so that he and Frank were face to fa
ce, with no apparent regard for personal space. Frank didn’t seem to notice,
but when Oliver smiled at what he’d said, taking it as a compliment, he wasn’
t able to return it this time. Frank’s eyes fell to Oliver’s arm, to the plac
e where the other boy was now holding a bag of water.
“Does it hurt really bad?” Frank asked.
“It just hurts.”
Frank met Oliver’s eyes, frowning. “Why’d you follow me?”
Oliver looked at Frank as if he didn’t understand why that particular questio
n was being asked, not as if he didn’t understand the question. Frank sighed.
“I’m sorry you got hurt, Oliver.”
“I’m sorry you got hurt, too, Frank,” Oliver replied in all sincerity as he put
down the bag and lifted his hand, bringing his fingers close to Frank’s face.
Instinctively, Frank flinched at the sudden gesture, but somehow managed to
keep his own hands from interfering as Oliver’s fingers hovered over his s
ore mouth for a moment, and then ultimately came to rest alongside it at hi
s cheek.
Frank self-consciously wanted to look away, the close proximity beginning to
affect him, but instead, his eyes remained on Oliver’s, a task easily achie
ved only because Oliver wasn’t meeting Frank’s eyes directly, but looking at
his injured lip instead. His gentle fingers and concerned expression seemed
sweet to Frank, and as ridiculous as it seemed to Frank, he was touched by
the indiscreet attention. Oliver moved his thumb, gingerly touching Frank’s
top lip near the cut before pulling his hand away. Frank could hear his own
breathing, his vision blurring as he continued to watch Oliver at close prox
imity; and when his tongue moved from his mouth to touch his injury he could
taste his own blood and salty flavor left from Oliver’s fingers. When he su
ddenly realized that Oliver’s eyes were once again meeting his, Frank pulled [ Pobierz caÅ‚ość w formacie PDF ]