Carley Fortune

“Then let me have you,”

Sometimes I felt sure he was—like there was an invisible, unbreakable string that ran between us, stretching vast distances and keeping us joined.

He gave me a lopsided grin. It was a quiet smile, but it was a great smile, his blue eyes glinting like sea glass against his sunny skin.
I did that, I thought, a thrill running through me. I wanted to do it again.

he wouldn’t have lasted one hour at Chantal’s party without scoffing at her choice of signature drink and referencing some pretentious article he read in the New York Times that declared Aperol spritzes “over.”

He just buys expensive stuff to give the impression of being discerning

But the memories and the regrets they carried with them chafed like the blanket’s wool, and I would lose nights imagining where Sam was at that precise moment, wondering if there’s a chance he might be thinking of me. Sometimes I felt sure he was—like there was an invisible, unbreakable string that ran between us, stretching vast distances and keeping us joined. Other times, I dozed off in the midst of a movie only to wake in the middle of the night, my lungs feeling like they were on the verge of collapse, and I’d have to breathe my way through the panic attack.

Sam was fast becoming my favorite person. And I’m pretty sure he felt the same—he always wore the bracelet I made him.

The sight of his large hands sends blood rushing to my ears so loudly it’s like waves are crashing inside my head. I remember when he knelt over me in his bedroom, running those fingers along my body like he had discovered a new planet.

“You came home.”

I squeeze my eyes shut.

I came home.

“You know, you’re the only boy I’ve met who pays such close attention to hair?” I tried to sound calm, but the words came out wearing a straitjacket.

He grinned. “I pay attention to a lot of things about you, Percy Fraser.”