Under the Texas Sky

CHAPTER 46

KIAN

Just knock on the door. All I have to do is lift my hand up and rap it against the door. It’s so easy. What’s waiting on the other side of the door is what keeps me from doing it.

I’m at Mitch’s house, staring at the same chairs I used to sit in, enjoying sweet tea with Mitch and Trent during the summer. The same porch where me and Trent used to sit while I worked on homework and he would write in his journal after school. There’s so many memories trapped here that are banging against the walls in my head, begging to be set free.

I can hear the TV on inside. I look left and right to see if any of Mitch’s neighbors are watching me have a freak out on this porch. The house to the left has a nice pick up truck sitting in the driveway, and the porch light is on. An old man is probably staring out his window judging me for not being man enough to knock on this door. But if he was in my shoes, I’m sure he would be scared too.

It’s been two and a half years. Two and a half years since I sat on the couch with Mitch and watched old game show reruns. Two and a half years since I’ve done a puzzle and eaten pizza with a man that I used to consider a father. I looked up to him, I idolized him, and look where that got me. Heartbroken. I know that’s not Mitch’s fault, but the rational part of me doesn’t want to understand that Mitch didn’t choose Trent over me. I made the decision for everyone when I up and left without an explanation.

My hand shakes as I form it in a fist, pressing it against the hard wooden door. The pressure against my knuckles tell me that this is real, what I’m about to do can’t be undone. I pull my hand back and hit it against the door. The sharp sound is a shock to my system, because I did it.

I wait patiently, staring at the door and listening to the sound coming through the it. It sounds like Golden Girls, which doesn’t make sense because Mitch doesn’t like Golden Girls. He prefers game shows, not shows about love and friendship.

There’s no sound of footsteps or the door clicking unlocked.

I knock again, this time louder. He’s getting old, maybe he has a harder time hearing now.

The TV clicks off, and the house is bathed in silence. Still no footsteps.

“Mitch, it’s me.”

Nothing. Maybe not the best thing to say.

“Kian. It's me, Kian.”

I wait for a few more minutes, and still, nothing.

Well, that’s my cue to leave. He obviously doesn’t want to see me, and I don’t want to embarrass myself more by crying out in the open. I would rather do it in the comfort of my own hotel room.

This was dumb. Everything is dumb. I should tuck my tail between my legs and run back to Willow and Arizona. I never have to worry about rejection or being unwanted there. I’ll keep going with my OnlyFans and my modeling gigs, where people pay money to see me because I’m desirable. Not because they want to know me, but because they want to see how I look naked. And that’s fine. I don’t need to let anyone else in. It never works out for me anyway.

I backtrack off the porch and down the driveway to the sidewalk. It’s chilly outside, and the thin jacket I have on doesn’t combat the cold much. The walk back will be miserable, but it gives me plenty of time to think about what I’m going to do next.

Maybe I should go on a trip. I have enough money saved. I could travel the world. Even though it sounds terribly lonely if I have to do it by myself.

“Hey! Wait!” a voice yells, the sound being carried on the cold wind.

Are they talking to me? I tilt my head and look over my shoulder, not trying to draw attention, in case it's a serial killer wanting to trap me and hunt me for sport.

Someone in a dark jacket and tattered blue jeans is coming out of the house right beside Mitch’s. The beanie on their head obstructs my view, but their walk is familiar.

“Kian!” It’s Trent. Trent is the one calling for me, his soul reaching out to mine. He picks up his pace until he’s sprinting toward me.

I fully turn my body to watch him as he approaches. I expect him to slow down, but he doesn’t.

He crashes into me, taking us both down. He twists, so he lands on the hard ground and I land on top of him. He groans in pain and I try to get up, but he tightens his hold around my waist.

My face heats as his eyes take me in, our bodies pressed tightly together. Me inhaling every breath he exhales.

His hands brush back the curls that have escaped my ponytail, then he trails his finger down my cheek.

He doesn't ask me what I'm doing, or why I'm here. Instead he smiles up at me. "You’re so beautiful,” he remarks easily.

“Can boys be beautiful?” I throw his words back at him from that time in the park. The moment that my crush turned into something more.

Trent doesn’t say anything, but his wide smile speaks for itself. We can save the talking for later because seeing him and the small puffs of air from the cold weather with every one of his exhales, I know that we can overcome anything.

Together.