A Different Blue(145)

The feeling that surged in me was tempered by confusion and doubt.

“What about Pamela?”

“She kisses like an old woman,” he said softly.

I laughed, my heart immediately lighter.

“I told her last night that I was in love with you. Funny thing is, I think she already knew.”

I curled my hands into his shirt and took a deep breath, waiting for the axe to fall, because I

could feel he had a lot more to say. He paused, maybe wondering if I would declare my feelings,

too. When I remained silent, he sighed and spoke again.

“But this is where the not knowing part comes in. I have no real idea how you feel about me.

One minute, I'm sure you feel the same. The next you're telling me it's just a silly game. One

minute, I'm telling you I'm lost without you. The next you're telling me to sod off.”

“So that's what you don't know? You don't know how I feel about you?” I almost laughed, it was

so obvious. “I'm not the one who's been dating someone else, Wilson. I'm not the one convinced

it's inappropriate to be with me. I'm not the one who has been fighting this every step of the

way.”

“That's still not an answer, Blue. How do you feel about me?” His voice was insistent, and his

hands were on my shoulders now, pushing me away so that he could see my face. I couldn't answer.

Not because I didn't know but because I did.

“Can I show you something?” I said suddenly. Wilson dropped his hands in frustration and

turned away, running a hand through his hair.

“Please. It might help me to explain. I'm not as good with words as you are, Wilson.”

I leaned forward and grabbed his hand, pulling him behind me as I walked through the house. He

followed, but I could see that I'd hurt him by not answering his question. I tugged him through

the door in my kitchen that led to the basement, and I clattered down the stairs, not releasing

his hand until we reached my workbench.

I pointed at my latest work-in-progress. “This was that huge lump of wood you helped me drag in

a while ago. You asked me if I was going to make a life size replica of Tyrannosaurus Rex,

remember?”

“This is it?” Wilson stared in disbelief at the carving that was still big, as far as carvings

went – but when we'd lugged it in, it had been too big to get it on the work bench, and we'd

had to use a dolly to even get it into the house. It had to have weighed 250 pounds. Since that

day, I had carved away enough mass to actually hoist it onto the table myself. I pointed at the

large sections of wood that I had cut away, creating a climbing, circular structure, almost like

a circular staircase built for fairies in a wooded glen. It was going to be my first carving for

Mr. Chen. “Do you see how the carving is created by removing wood? How I almost remove more

than I keep.”

Wilson nodded, watching my fingertips skim along the valleys and shadows I'd created.

“It's not just about what's there but what isn't there. Do you understand?” I stumbled a

little bit on my words, knowing what I was trying to say and not knowing if I was actually

saying it.

“I think so. The space creates the silhouette, the dimension, the form . . . right?”

I smiled up at him, thrilled that he understood. He smiled back, so sweetly, so fondly, that for