Page 40 of Splintered Hearts

Brown eyes, shy smile.

Beautiful.

Eleven

Jamie

On Monday night, Noah tells me his favorite color is red, and follows it with a picture of himself in a cropped red shirt and lacy thong, standing in front of a floor-length mirror, looking behind his shoulder, showing off his ass.

Red may also be my new favorite color.

On Wednesday, I tell him I’d like a cat more than anything, but sometimes my depression gets so bad that I forget to eat and sleep, and in the past I’ve even peed the bed because I couldn’t get up. That was during the first year after the accident, and it’s been years since, but I don’t tell him about that part.

On Thursday, he tells me his favorite position is cowgirl and that he’s a natural rider, and damn, the mental image that conjures should be illegal.

On Friday, I tell him about the time Hunter and I thought we saw a UFO and told my brother about it. For weeks, he was terrified they’d come back and take us to their planet because Hunter and I “knew too much.”

Clearly, our conversation topics are vastly different.

That’s why, on Sunday, when Noah texts me, saying—

Noah: I can’t believe he hasn’t tried to find me

I don’t know why I’m surprised or even upset

I’m being dumb

—I grab my phone, curious about his sudden seriousness. It’snot that I don’t mind the playful texts, but I have a feeling Noah uses jokes and sarcasm to mask and hide everything he doesn’t want to think about.

I do the same thing, just with anger and seclusion. Not knowing what to say, I tell him his dad’s a fucking idiot. His father doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as him.

For two weeks, we text back and forth, but neither of us call. I don’t know why. I know Hunter found out he called me that first night, but I’m tired of the lectures. This isn’t Hunter’s or Mark’s business.

Whatever this non-thing is between us.

All I know is that I’m looking forward to something for the first time in so long. My phone buzzes, and I snatch it embarrassingly fast.

Noah: I got books today!!!

Smiling down at the text, I reply, practically seeing the grin on Noah’s pretty face.

Jamie: Anything spicy?

Noah: All the spice!!!!! You know me

I’m starting to. We’ve been talking every day, sometimes about nothing, sometimes about everything. From why the sky is blue to Noah’s dirty thoughts, to the books he reads and the shows he watches. Noah’s into BLs—Boys Love dramas, he explained—which doesn’t surprise me. Noah seems to love romance in all forms. I haven’t told him, but I watched one he said was his favorite, and it was actually pretty good.

Noah: I hope they leave me alone tonight. I just want to read in peace

Noah: I need to get my own place

He could live here.My fingers twitch with the response, but I’ve told him multiple times that the room is still open. I’m trying. I am. But everybody I’ve interviewed just hasn’t been the right fit.

Hunter says I’m picky, but I have to live with them.

Jamie: Do you still want to talk tonight?

Jamie: You can read if you get time instead

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