Page 32 of Fragile hearts

Because I have no clue.

I have been to a public beach before, but never to tan or swim. I do like to get tanned, but I only do it when I have privacy, so other people don’t notice my scars. Most people don’t know that I have more scars than just the one on my throat. But I have plenty more. Some are noticeable if you look close enough, like the circular ones on my arms, which resulted from a foster parent who likes to use me as an ashtray, but there are more on my chest and stomach, and even more on my back. I like them. I have never had trouble with them, but sometimes people behave weirdly when they see them, and it makes me uncomfortable.

I know Carson won’t care, but I don’t want him to be surprised when he sees them. The front door opens. The sound of the creaking hinges fills the room.

“Sunshine? You ready to go?”

“I’ll be right there!” I give myself one last look in the mirror, the pale white marks conspicuous against my tanned skin. I grab the pink tank top off my chair, pulling it over my head as I walk downstairs. Carson is standing near the front door, my tote bag in his hand. It’s only when I’m standing in front of him that I notice it. The color of his eyes are different. His left eye is still the striking blue as it always is, but his right eye, the one that is normally a beautiful chestnut brown, is now also blue.

What the fuck?

“What did you do?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your eye. It’s blue.”

“My eye? It’s always been blue.”

“Yeah, your left one, but the right one is normally brown.”

He lifts a shoulder. “Oh, that. Yeah, I’m wearing a colored contact lens.”

I don’t like it. I love his mismatched eyes. “I don’t wear it that often anymore. I used to growing up, but I only do it now in public spaces.”

I harrumph, my eyebrows pulled tight. Carson chuckles, tucking a loose hair behind my ear. “What’s wrong? You don’t like them?”

“No, I still think you’re handsome, but I like your own eyes better.”

He quirks a brow, smirking. “You think I’m handsome?”

“Shut up, you know what I mean.”

“Oh, I do, Sunshine. I heard you loud and clear.”

My cheeks heat up. I stare down at our shoes, but Carson isn’t having it. He lifts my chin with his thumb.

“Why?” The words leave my mouth in a quick breath. I need to know why he would hide his beautiful eyes.

“Why do I wear contacts?”

I nod. He swallows hard, twirling the loose strand of hair between his thumb and index finger. “People don’t like them. I used to get bullied growing up. They thought it was contagious.”

“What?”

“Yeah, so I hide them now. I don’t like the comments people make.”

“People bullied you?”

“Yeah, I know it sounds weird. I was a pretty big kid, but their words were really hurtful.” I don’t think I have ever wanted to punch someone as much as I do today—the thought of someone bullying Carson. The sweetest guy I know, for something so unique and beautiful, makes me livid.

“I need to know their names.”

“Why so you can beat them up?”

“Yes.”

He chuckles lightly as if I’m joking. But I’m not. I have never been so serious in my life. No one will hurt him and walk away unscathed. “Don’t worry about it, Sunshine. It was a long time ago.”