Page 51 of Six Years
Grey releases my hand, but before I can move away from him, he grasps the end up my hoodie in his hands, telling me to lift my arms then pulls it up over my head, leaving me as exposed to him as he is to me.
“You see yourself in them then, huh?” I cup his face with one hand, wanting to keep on looking into his eyes but I find the swamp of birds on his collarbones instead.Freedom and perspective. It doesn’t stand there but it also doesn’t take a genius to know what birds symbolize.
What the hell has happened to this guy?
Grey ignores me, as always when it gets too much, but that, too, is alright. “Tell me something you’ve never told anyone,” he says. “You have such a big mouth all the time, souse it.”
Oh, I’ll use mybig mouthsometime, but definitely not for talking.
He runs a finger down my torso, following every ripple of my muscles, forcing goosebumps to make its way onto my skin.
“I tell everyone who asks that I started drinking at the age of eighteen, at the frat parties, but I was twelve and very much not interested in parties.” That may be a little too heavy for the kind of conversation we’re having, but I’ve been dying to tell someone the truth about it for so long, it’s ridiculous.
“You’re still sober, right?”
I nod. “Two years now.”
He smiles. “You can be proud of yourself, Luan. Youshouldbe proud of yourself.”
“Are you proud of me?” Not that it should matter because he wasn’t there at the peak of my alcohol addiction. He didn’t see me suffer, didn’t witness me force relationships and let them crumble again when I got bored. He wasn’t there when I picked out a handful of people and decided to make my problems theirs.
“Anyone who isn’t proud of you for it shouldn’t be in your life,” he answers. “Iamproud of you, Luan.”
I think he’s aiming to make me smile, and it does make me smile, but it also makes me exhale so deeply, like that one single breath is the only thing keeping me from falling apart right now. Something heavy is stuck in my throat, keeping me from speaking, from telling him more about my problem. But as much as I love to talk, I hate talking aboutthat.
Not him being proud of me, I very much like that part and I will havemillionsof fantasy conversations about just that in my head until I see him again.
He takes his t-shirt, scrunches it up and pulls it over my head, then waits until I have my arms in before he pulls it down my torso.
Chapter 5
“it’s something like an anchor”—Anchor by Cailee Rae
February 2024
“You don’t plan onsleeping with your pants on, do you?” Luan leans back on his bed, looking me up and down the second I come walking out of his bathroom.
Without saying a word, I walk over to my bag to get something to wear for the night. It’s not a big bag by any means since I didn’t plan on staying longer than two days because of ice hockey, but it was definitely more filled than whatever I’m met with the second I unzip my bag.
Looking up, my eyes find Luan’s immediately. I raise my eyebrows at him, waiting for him to tell me what he’s done with half of my clothes, but of course there’s never an explanation coming.
“Where are my clothes?” I then ask because, apparently, with this guy, looks aren’t enough to make him say what I want to hear.
He shrugs. “I don’t think you packed any to sleep in, clearly.”
“Funny, I never said only clothes to sleep in were missing.” Like every single one of my shirts and the two shorts I had in there. The only clothes left are my boxers and pants that I’d rather not sleep in. “You don’t happen to be a mind reader, do you?”
Luan shakes his head, humming a no. “I’m pretty sure you mentioned you forgot to pack your bag properly before coming here. Yeah, that’s definitely it.”I never did. “But I do know this cool lifehack. What was it again?” He snaps his fingers three times. “Right, just sleep naked. I won’t look. Promise with fingers crossed.”
Mm-hmm, he won’t look, all right. That guy really is something else.
“You do know you’re not supposed to have your fingers crossed when making a promise, right?”
“Oh, well, ankles crossed then.” He grins, satisfied with himself for, once again, pulling a reaction out of me. I think it’s his new favorite hobby. Seeing what makes me react and what doesn’t. I kind of like that game.
So without further ado, I unbutton my pants and let them fall right to the floor. But unlike Luan’s fantasy wishes, I keep my boxers where they are.
Somewhere in our friendship, there’s a line. I don’t quite know where it is yet, haven’t really found it, but I know there is one. And I think sleeping naked in one bed with your friend crosses that line.
