Page 124 of On His Mind

He says it on a Tuesday night, which is the least romantic day of the week, in his room, with the lamp low and a game he’s not really watching on his laptop.

I’m at his desk, drawing with one of the pencils he gave me — I use them now, I gave up not-using them. He’s on the bed, and I feel him watching me, which he does, and I’ve stopped being self-conscious about it. I turn around to whisper something, and he’s got a look on his face.

“What is it?” I ask, concerned.

He doesn’t answer for a second. His jaw works.

“It’s nothing,” he finally replies.

“Really?”

He shakes his head. “No, not really.”

I grin at him. “Then what?”

“I ––” he begins, looking right at me. He blinks. “I love you.”

The pencil stops in my hand.

He doesn’t look away. His hands are still. He’s not anxious about it. He just decided to say it, so he said it.

I put the pencil down and cross the room. I take his face in my hands and brush his cheek. He looks up at me.

“I love you too,” I say it back, and I mean it more than I’ve ever meant anything.

He closes his eyes. Something goes out of his shoulders that’s been there as long as I’ve known him.

By March, we have a routine. He comes over after his shift on the nights the house is loud enough not to miss him. He lets himself in now — he has a way of doing it quietly that I’ve stopped hearing. I draw at my desk; he reads, or does the endlessfilm study, headphones half on. Neither of us talks for an hour at a stretch, and it’s the most comfortable silence I’ve ever been in.

Tonight, he’s watching me across the room.

“Do you have something you want to say, Deveroux?” I tease.

He grins, closing his book. “I notice you don’t come to the parties anymore.”

“Parties?” I question.

“The Hawthorne House parties.”

I tap my pencil. “Yeah. Why would I want to come to that?”

He shrugs. “Gianna comes now.”

“She does? I thought Benson said she couldn’t.”

“He let up.” He pauses. “She talks about you. They say they miss you.”

“Oh,” I mutter. “Yeah, I –– I don’t know.”

“It’s been a long time since you came to one.”

I nod. “Sure has.”

His expression softens. “You mentioned one time that Hawthorne had horrible drinks.”

I laugh. “Yeah, are they finally stepping up their game?”

He smiles. “I don’t know. You haven’t heard anything?”