Page 23 of I Hear You

“I found this place by accident a while back. Well–actually my dog did,” he laughs at the memory. “I had to pull over to let her do her business, and she pulled free of her leash. I ended up chasing her all the way here. Now I come here whenever I need to think, or just get away.”

His admissions tug at my heart and the weight of knowing he’s shared this place only with me has me conflicted.

Every time I’m breathing the same air as Henry, I want to be closer to him–in more ways than one. Those desires are terrifying. Those desires of wanting to let someone into my life and my heart are the same desires I ran from with Ender. How is it fair to let myself fall for Henry–a guy I met just over a month ago–when I cut Ender–a guy who was my best friend for years–out of my life entirely? The dichotomy is too much to think about and I push it from my mind, forcing myself to be present. Enjoy the here and now, in this peaceful, hidden field–with Henry.

This is the second time in as many days I’ve been alone with Henry. Each time has been filled with charged moments of intense feelings and a strange familiarity I can’t quite pinpoint. Almost as if an invisible string is connecting me to him and every time I’m near him, the string gets shorter and shorter. Soon I’ll be faced with a decision–let the string pull me to Henry intrinsically, or cut the connection altogether.

Chapter ten

Henderson

BringingMadisonherewasa calculated risk. One I would repeat a thousand times just to continue seeing the sun shine on her face turned up to the sky. Her neck extended and her eyes closed, a faint smile on her lips. Out here in this space is the most content I’ve seen her since she’s arrived in Easton. I’m happy to have helped her find a few minutes of peace, grateful the usual look of nervousness and anxiety is washed from her skin.

“If you could only eat one food for the rest of your life, what would it be?” she asks.

We’ve been going back and forth like this for the past half hour. It reminds me of the confession game we played in our emails. I choose all of my questions and answers carefully, though. I’m not ready to tell her who I am. It’s selfish and maybe deceitful, but I’m not ready to give up these moments. That’s my fear–that I’ll tell her I’m Ender and she’ll abandon me the way she did him. Thankfully, most of the questions she’s asked have been light like this one.

“The onion rings from the diner,” I say.

“Seriously? Why is everyone so obsessed with those things?”

“Have you not tried them?”

I turn my head to stare at her in disbelief. She turns her head to look at me. I’m not sure when we transitioned from sitting to lying on our backs. Looking at her now, I realize how close we are. A small shift would have our sides pressed against each other. The tank top she’s wearing leaves her arms bare and I long to run my fingers across her smooth, sun-kissed skin.

“I have,” she says, “and I’ve had better.”

“Easton doesn’t exactly have a lot of options, so we try not to be too picky here.”

The conversation dies out. It’s my turn to ask her a question, but I’m finding it difficult to string words together to make a sentence. I’m transfixed by the gold flecks in her eyes, the curve of her lips that are slightly parted, her chest rising and falling with her breaths.

Madison pushes her lips together and swallows, then relaxes her lips to inhale deeply. Her breathing has gotten more pronounced. Exhales causing her to form a tight circle with her lips as she works to control it. I want more than anything to let my lips cross the short distance to hers and taste her, but I can’t. Not like this–not when she doesn’t know who I really am.

Her eyes fall closed, her head is still turned in my direction. It would be so easy to just tilt my head forward and capture her lips in mine.

Kicking myself, I clear my throat.

“I should probably get you back to campus,” I say.

The moment is gone. The opportunity breaks into a million pieces and floats in the wind, scattering among the trees that surround us.

She opens her eyes slowly and nods. The walk back to my truck is silent, punctuated only by the rustling of the pine needles on the trees and chirping of birds.

“What’s the best thing you’ve read in the past few years?” I ask her, breaking the silence on our drive back to campus.

She doesn’t look at me, but I can see the crinkle around her eyes and the corner of her lips turn up as she ponders the question.

“An email from a friend,” she says. “It was the most beautiful email I’ve ever read.”

I don’t dare ask her to elaborate, but she grants me answers to my curiosity.

“His words were brave and honest. Something I haven’t been able to be.”

My breath catches in my throat and my knuckles turn white with the force of my grip on the steering wheel.

I want to scream the truth. Shout from the top of my lungs that it’s me. I wrote those words. Mostly, I want her to tell me why she never responded. I’m a coward and don’t say anything. The silence settles between us again.

“Thank you for the adventure, Henry,” she says as I put my truck in park along the curb near the dorm rooms.

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