Five Feet Apart(44)

She reaches out, and I know she wants to take my hand. I know because I want to take hers, too. My heart slows a beat, and I see her freeze halfway, curling her fingers into her palm and lowering her hand.

Her eyes meet mine, and they’re filled with understanding. She knows that fear. But then she gives me this small smile, and I realize we’re here in spite of all that.

Because of her.

I fight for a deep breath, watching the glow from the pool as it plays against her collarbone and her neck and her shoulders.

“God, you’re beautiful. And brave,” I say. “It’s a crime I can’t touch you.”

I lift the pool cue, wishing more than anything it was my fingertips against her skin. Gently, I trace the end of it up her arm, over the sharp angle of her shoulder, slowly making my way to her neck. She shivers underneath my “touch,” her eyes locked on mine, a faint red blooming in her cheeks as the pool cue climbs.

“Your hair,” I say, touching where it falls over her shoulders.

“Your neck,” I say, the pool light brightening her skin.

“Your lips,” I say, feeling the dangerous pull of gravity between us, daring me to kiss her.

She looks away, suddenly shy. “I lied, the day we met. I haven’t had sex.” She takes a breath that’s sharp, touching her side as she speaks. “I don’t want anyone to see me. The scars. The tube. There’s nothing sexy about—”

“Everything about you is sexy,” I say, cutting her off. She looks at me and I want her to see it in my face. I mean, look at her. “You’re perfect.”

I watch as she pushes the pool cue away, standing, trembling. She reaches for her silk tank top, her eyes fixed on mine as she pulls it slowly off to reveal a black lace bra. She drops the tank top onto the deck of the pool, my jaw going with it.

Then she slips down her shorts, stepping carefully out of them and straightening up. Inviting me to look.

She’s knocked the wind right out of me. I try to take in as much as I can, hungrily making my way up and down her body, gazing at her legs and her chest and her hips. The light dances against the raised battle scars on her chest and stomach.

“Dear god,” I manage to get out. I never thought I could be jealous of a pool cue, but I want to feel her skin against mine.

She smiles coyly at me before sliding into the pool, going completely under the water. She stares up at me, her long hair fanning out around her like she’s a mermaid. I tighten my grip on the pool cue as she comes up gasping for air.

She chuckles. “What was that? Five seconds? Ten?”

I close my mouth, clearing my throat. It could’ve been a year for all I know. “I wasn’t counting. I was staring.”

“Well, I showed you mine,” she says, daring me.

And I always take a dare.

I stand up, unbuttoning my shirt. Now she’s the one looking at me. And she doesn’t say anything, but her lips are parted, not frowning, not pitying.

I walk to the pool steps, sliding out of my pants, and stand there for a moment in just my boxers, the water and Stella calling to me. Slowly, I step into the pool, our eyes locked on each other’s as we struggle for air.

For once, it has nothing to do with our CF.

I sink under the water and she follows me, small bubbles floating to the surface as we look at each other across the washed-out world underneath the water, our hair floating up and around us, pulling toward the surface, the lights casting shadows off our thin bodies.

We smile at each other, and even though there are a million reasons why I shouldn’t, looking at her now, I can’t help feeling like I’m falling in love with her.





CHAPTER 19


STELLA


We leave the pool, our hair slowly drying as night turns into early morning. We walk past things I’ve seen a million times in my years at Saint Grace’s. Dozing security guards, and surgeons angrily shaking the broken vending machine by the lobby, the same white tile floors and the same dimly lit hallways, but everything seems different with Will next to me. It’s like seeing everything for the first time. I didn’t know it was possible for a person to make old things become new again.

We walk slowly past the cafeteria and stand in front of a huge glass window off to the side, away from any passersby, watching the sky slowly lighten. Everything is still quiet on the other side of the glass. My eyes land on the lights at the park in the distance.

I take a deep breath and point at them. “See those lights?”

Will nods, looking over at me, his hair slicked back from the pool water. “Yeah. I always look at them when I sit on the roof.”

He watches me as I look back at the lights. “Every year Abby and I would go there. She used to call them stars because there are so many.” I smile, laughing. “My family used to call me Little Star.”

I hear Abby’s voice in my ear, saying my nickname. It hurts, but the pain isn’t as sharp. “She’d make a wish and she’d never, ever tell me what it was. She used to joke that if she said it out loud, it would never come true.” The tiny pinpoints of light twinkle in the distance, calling out to me, as if Abby is out there now. “But I knew. She wished for new lungs for me.”

I breathe in and out, feeling the ever-present struggle of my lungs to rise and fall, and I wonder what it would be like with new lungs. Lungs that, for a short while, would completely change life as I know it. Lungs that would actually work. Lungs that would let me breathe, and let me run, and give me more time to really live.