Chapter 7. #2
“Not usually the first thing you encounter in a small Texas town, huh?” I reconsider my earlier words.
“I guess I sound … a bit ungrateful. The day I finally come out and end all of the possible speculating, I know I’ll be able to be myself.
No matter which way you turn, there’s a friend. Shouldn’t I be more grateful?”
“Sounds like you’ve got more love inside you for this old town than you realize.”
“Love can be a trap, too.”
He frowns. “You sure you don’t listen to Chase Holt?”
“Why? Is that one of his lyrics?”
“Could be. I should jot that down.”
I snort. “What do you plan to do? Fold it into a paper airplane and fling it onstage during his next show? Or sneak backstage into his dressing room and offer it to him in person?”
My question seems to cause something inside him to squirm. Is it at the prospect of actually interacting with Chase directly? Just the thought makes me laugh suddenly, causing him to shoot me a look. “What?” he blurts.
“You’re such a diehard,” I say through my laughter. “I bet you would faint if you ever ended up in a room alone with him.”
He scratches a spot on his neck, then twists his lips into a cute and challenging smirk. “Who says I haven’t already?”
“That funny look you’re making.”
Now he’s gone from squirming to total poker face.
“I guess I can see what you’re saying, about love and traps and all.
Loyalty isn’t a bad thing, but …” He peers at me.
“You ever wonder if you love somethin’ so dang much, you can’t tell if it’s love anymore, or if you’re just …
too afraid to find out what you are without it? ”
My walking slows.
Life without Spruce.
Without my parents’ doting smiles. Or that cute new office. Or a future of spreadsheets, contact numbers, and tractor manuals.
Life without automatically returning to T something else to lose myself in instead of fixing my life.
But what if I become a fan, too? Not just for the music.
We could go to the concerts together, Austin and I.
Smiling, laughing. Tons of opportunities for our arms to graze in that crowd.
Singing badly together. Melt into the music and vibes—and each other.
It’d be the start of something neither of us fully understands.
Something scary and exciting and life-saving.
And it’d be almost like a road trip, right?
Hitting all the local shows with him? I’d have an excuse every few days to leave with my new pal Austin.
And unlike my straight, Paris-chasing bestie AJ, this is someone I actually can flirt with.
Someone I can explore fantasies with. Someone I can go and not get coffee with.
Isn’t that the dream?
Instantly, that becomes my new goalpost. “So … when’s your next show?” I ask.
“Ducks!” he cries out instead, breaking from the pathway and hurrying to the pond.
Uh, okay.
I follow him to the brink of the water where he crouches—his underwear peeking out yet again, unfairly tugging on my eyes—and I crouch down next to him, too, leaving a bit of space so as not to crowd him or his graze-happy arms. “They come and go,” I tell him, like I’m suddenly the animal life tour guide of Spruce.
“We’ve got our park ducks and our farm ducks.
They fly between all the ponds. It’s like their own little community, kinda like us and our worst town gossips.
Ducks are so much more social than you’d expect.
The park ducks tend to stick around longer, since people feed them.
But if it gets too noisy, they’ll head off to see what the farmies are up to.
And if you aren’t carrying any bread? Phew, you might as well be a rock. ”
“Should’ve brought some, then,” he says. “Hate showin’ up to someone’s home empty-handed.”
I glance at him. What a thoughtful thing to say. “Doubt the ducks will mind.”
He shifts slightly my way and lowers his voice. “Don’t know. I think one or two are givin’ me the stank eye. See that one all the way over there? With that odd feather stickin’ up, outta place?”
With him leaning into me and pointing, our arms are touching. Again.
It’s like he can’t help touching me.
And my heart hasn’t had a chance to relax because of it.
“Yeah,” I lie, not seeing the duck.
“I claim that feathery little guy. His name’s Ausie Junior, and he’s officially my second Spruce friend.”
“Second? Oh.” It hits me a touch late. I fight off a smile, trying to play it off.
He peers at me. “You’re cute, y’know that?”
God, his face is so close. And what it does to me. Kiss-close. His eyes that already know everything about me, disallowing me to keep a single wall up. Even the curl of his lips, how I’m instantly wrecked just looking at them.
Wait. Did he just call me cute?
My brain overloads. And reboots. I can’t handle a second more of staring into his face, so I throw my gaze back out at the pond. “Why Ausie Junior?” I ask.
“Ausie. Short for Austin. And Junior ‘cause it’s cute.”
I frown. What I need in my life isn’t another AJ. “How about just Little A?”
He chuckles, the little breathy noises tickling my ear in such a delightfully intimate way, like we’re not crouched by a pond, but lying next to each other in a bed, sheets twisted around our legs on a lazy Sunday.
“You gotta take care of Little A for me after I head out. Wanna see him happier each time I drop into town.”
Each time I drop into town … He already plans to come back? “I’ll make sure I always have bread on me, then.” I turn partway, eyes on the pond, still not daring to look at him while he’s so close. “He will be the happiest little duck in Spruce.”
Then my eyes betray me and dance over to his.
His gaze captures mine instantly, locking me right there.
I’m hopeless to break away.
And his lips spread into a smile of appreciation, as if I needed any other reason to be held captive, and he says, “I think today’s the first one in a long while where I’ve actually felt free.”
I stare back into his eyes, ruined by those words.
Free? … Because of me?
“Me too,” I let out without meaning to, then look away for my own safety.
Just then, as if understanding us, Little A turns our way.
I’d swear he’s glaring at us, if ducks could glare.
Then he lets out a honk. I guess Austin is looking out at the pond, too, because he laughs at that.
Then I laugh. And our shoulders press together.
As nice and tension-breaking as laughter can be, it doesn’t do a thing to settle this terrifying joy in my chest.
I don’t have a clue what’s happening between us.
Only that I don’t want it to stop.