Page 35 of All Your Pucking Secrets

Tonight, the stars are as bright as ever.

“What time is the meteor shower supposed to happen?” I ask.

He checks his watch. “Around eight-thirty. It’s a little after eight now.”

He’s still eating, so I relax and close my eyes. Tonight has been full of surprises, but perhaps the strangest part is how normal it feels to be here with him. I was nervous when he invited me, wondering what the catch was, but now my mind is easy.

The paper bag crinkles, presumably as Tyler digs around for the last of the fries, and then he scrunches it into a ball. I open my eyes and watch as he packs the trash into the cooler, beside what remains of a six pack of beer.

He flops back, his arms supporting his head, and angles himself toward me.

“When I thanked you earlier, I meant it.” He clears his throat. “I know you were paid to help me, but it felt like you really cared, and that means something.”

His eyes gleam in the darkness and, based on the way he’s squirming, I suspect his cheeks are flushed red; I can’t tell for sure in the near-dark.

“I do care,” I tell him.

Honestly, I care about more than his grade. I can’t get that encounter between him and his dad out of my mind. It’s been weighing on me ever since. The question, ‘Is your Dad abusive?’, is on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t let it out.

Even if I did, I don’t know that he’d answer with the truth. Or at all. He might be angry at me for broaching the subject in the first place, and I don’t want to ruin his mood.

“Thank you.” His voice is rough, and his fingers brush against mine beneath the blanket. I’m tempted to curl my fingers around his, but I don’t want him to think I’m making more of this than it actually is, so I resist the urge.

“I’m serious,” he continues when I don’t respond. “You gave me hope.”

My heart squeezes. Everyone should have hope. The world would be a bleak place without it. I’d have thought a guy like Tyler would have plenty of things to look forward to or to hope and dream about. I’d never have guessed that such a small thing could make a difference to him.

Above us, a streak of white flashes across the sky.

I gasp. “Did you see that?”

He turns to look up and, together, we watch as another meteor burns itself out in the earth’s atmosphere.

Dozens of faint lines appear and disappear so quickly that neither of us have time to point them out before they’re gone again. Every few seconds, a brighter meteor trails across the canvas of stars, capturing our attention until it fades and falls from the sky.

“It’s amazing,” I breathe.

His hand nudges mine again and, this time, Tyler’s palm slides against mine and clasps firmly.

“They remind me of you,” he murmurs.

I tilt my face toward him, only to realize we’ve shifted closer while we were staring up, and now we freeze, gazing into each other’s eyes as we share breath.

“How?” I whisper, afraid to end the moment.

He touches the tip of his nose to mine. “You bring light into my darkness, even if I know it’s going to be gone too soon.”

My chest swells. I can’t help myself.

I kiss him.

10

ECHO

I grip the edges of my notepad tightly and tuck my legs up beneath myself on Dr. Rodriguez’s sofa, bracing myself for the question I know she’s about to ask.

“You’ve come a long way since we started these sessions,” she says, leaning forward in her comfortably padded chair.

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