Page 29 of Unmasking You

“I forgot.” In my need to be with him and away from Dan, I didn’t even think about lunch.

“Let’s share,” Jamie says, scooting to the side to make space for me.

I sit and watch him take half his sandwich out and pass it to me. Tuna and sweetcorn, my favourite. I take a bite, and then another, and in a few seconds it’s gone.

Then it’s a piece of carrot, and another, until they’re all gone too. And finally, he breaks the chocolate bar in two and gives one half to me.

“Thank you,” I say when we’re done.

We relax next to each other, enjoying the silence and the sounds of the leaves moved by the wind. I look at Jamie, his eyes closed with that sweet smile on his lips, and something inside me builds. On impulse, I lean in and place a kiss on his cheek.

Then I pull back, afraid I crossed a line I shouldn’t have. Instead, he’s looking at me, his face as red as before, but on his lips is a smile I’ve never seen. A smile that tells me I’m safe, that tells me he feels the same, that brings tears to my eyes.

The bell rings at that moment, and we rush to get everything back inside his bag. Before we leave, though, he takes my hand and squeezes, and my spinning world returns to its axis.

We don’t look at each other and go our separate ways once we’re back in the building, but whatever we had at the pond will always be inside me.

I’ve never seen anyone look as uncomfortable as Jamie does while sitting on the edge of my bed. And I don’t think his mind is like mine, full of the indecent things I want to do to him.

“Shall we play video games?” I ask, and snort when he jumps up and nearly falls to the floor, arse first.

“I don’t know how to play.”

I hate seeing him so guarded and afraid of saying or doing something he’ll be judged for.

I’ll never judge him. To me, he doesn’t have any flaws. To me, he’s the essence of perfection. Just like the sun and the moon or a cold drink on a hot day.

He’s so beautiful when he smiles, his head thrown back, his face illuminated with amusement, and his lips stretched thin in joy. I wish I had the power to make him smile like that all the time. Instead, what I hoped for today wasn’t really happening because he’s so afraid of what’s around him. He’s not even looking at me with his full attention like he does in school when he makes me feel as if I’m the only person he really sees, as if I’m the only person hewantsto see.

“What’s wrong?”

His eyes land on me but quickly move away.

“You’re rich.”

I nearly laugh at his astonished tone.

“I’m not,” I say, and his eyes are back on me. His forehead is furrowed as if he doesn’t understand, so I continue. “I’mnot. My dad is.”

Now, even his eyebrows are frowning, and I want to smile so badly, but I don’t want to make him more uncomfortable than he is.

“It’s the same thing,” he says finally.

“No, it’s not.” My tone is harsh because I’m not like them. I’m at my parents’ mercy, with no power over my own life, and I don’t seem able to please them, ever.

“Okay.” His meek tone and “I’m ready to flee” demeanour make me feel like I kicked a puppy.

Jesus.

I breathe in a few times while trying to control my frustration over the gilded cage I live in, and no one seems to understand how much I want to fly free. How much I want to be like Jamie, with a family who loves him, praises him, and thinks he’s the best thing that ever happened to them.

Me? I’m just an object that can be used in different ways depending on the situation. Dutiful son, but only when I excel in my studies or in front of others. A disgrace when I don’t maintain the high standards my name requires. A failure when no outside eyes are on me.

“Sorry,” I say to the only person who has ever made me feel like I matter. I sit next to him and lean closer until my shoulder is touching his. I ignore the electricity passing between us, instead gripping the peace and calmness that spreads inside me whenever we’re close with both hands.

The more I relax, the more Jamie relaxes, and when I’m back to the person I am with him, I speak. “Don’t worry about all this,” I say, pointing to the stuff around my room. “None of it is important.Weare.“ And with fear eating at my insides, I inch my hand over until it covers his, and then I grip it delicately, afraid he’ll reject me, just like everyone I love does.

I hold my breath while I wait for his reaction. I admire his long lashes fluttering with nervousness, his teeth biting at his bottom lip, and his pale skin pinking at his cheeks. He looks stunning, like a flower blooming in spring.

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