Page 120 of Wrath

“I don’t have a cleft in my chin.”

“Yeah you do.” He leans his forehead against my chest, right under my throat. “And you’re thicc. Love your body,” he murmurs. “Succulent.”

That makes me grin. And leads me to another question. “Aloe vera or cactus?”

“Cactus.”

“Aloe has a purpose, though,” I point out.

“So does cactus.” He yawns. “They do flowers.”

“Do they really?”

“Yeah,” he says. His voice sounds exhausted. “Think they’re yellow.”

“How did I not know that?”

“Look ’em up. I like them.”

“Of course you do. My cactus flower.” My cheeks redden at that dumb endearment, but he scoots closer to me after I say it.

“Motorcycle or unicycle?” he asks in a soft rasp.

“I’m going with uni,” I say. “It seems safer.”

I can hear the smile in his voice when he says, “Doubt it.”

“Broken bone or surgery?” I ask him pointedly, thinking of motorcycles.

“Neither.” There’s a flatness to his voice, reminding me of what he said a little while ago.What a stupid question. It occurs to me that the start of this new weirdness between us—him acting all distant—happened at the hospital the other day.

I want to ask who hurt him. Why, and how? And where can I find the motherfucker? But I don’t let myself. Not now.

“Coke or Dr. Pepper?” I try.

He laughs, a soft huff. “Blue raspberry Icee.”

I think about that day I passed him walking. The way his face looked as he swung that Icee.

“Sunshine or rain?”

“Sun.” He wraps an arm around me. “Tell me something else, Mills. Tell me about you.”

I can tell he’s close to sleep, or maybe feeling bad. His voice is weak and soft. His arm around my back feels heavy.

“I don’t know what to say about me. I’m just…here. Until next year. Then I make my escape,” I whisper, smirking.

“Then?”

“I’ll be at college,” I say.

“Where?”

“I don’t know,” I whisper. “Maybe Tuscaloosa. I could go toAuburn. UAB. There’s always out-of-state schools, too. That’s better for this,” I say softly.

“For the gay?” he murmurs.

“Yeah,” I answer.

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