Little Do We Know(44)

I moved in closer and kissed him. And when I pulled away, I pointed down at his laptop. “What were you watching when I came in?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

“So, porn?” I raised an eyebrow.

He started to laugh, but then grabbed his side and winced again. “No,” he groaned. “I’m not watching porn. Believe it or not, even with you sitting this close to me, that is the furthest thing from my mind.”

I gasped dramatically, as if I was offended. “Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?”

He bowed his head. “Trust me, you don’t want to know what I’m doing.”

“Come on. Show me.”

He hesitated, but then he said, “Fine,” and carefully scooted over to make room for me. I settled in next to him, sharing the same pillow, and rested my head on his shoulder. He opened his laptop and angled it so we could both see the screen.

There was a picture of a guy in a red-and-white jersey clutching a football. The headline read “Quarterback Dies From Lacerated Spleen.” I scrolled down, skimming the story. And then I realized there were dozens of tabs opened in the browser. Careful not to hurt him, I leaned over and began clicking on each one, reading headlines like “High School Lacrosse Player Dies After Collapsing on Field” and “Football Player Dies Hours After Injury on Field.”

I’d read enough. I leaned over and shut his laptop. “What are you doing?”

He didn’t answer right away. “I can’t stop thinking about what happened. I want to, but I can’t. That whole night, and then after…” He trailed off.

“How is reading about a bunch of athletes who died going to help?” I asked, tapping on his laptop. “Seriously, dude, porn would have been better.” I laughed at my own joke, but he didn’t even crack a smile.

I remembered what Tyler said the day before. “Stop thinking about what happened. It’s over. You’re safe and healthy and here where you belong. Besides, you can’t leave. We have a deal. We shook on it.”

“We did?”

“I’m stuck with you until August twentieth.” I leaned in closer and kissed him. “We have to go to prom and get our diplomas and you have to take me camping, god help me.”

He smiled at me, but it didn’t look genuine.

“I’m not belittling what happened to you in any way, but you walked away with eighteen staples in your chest and internal stitches in your spleen. Your family is still here. I’m still here. Your friends are here. You’re out for the season, but you’ll heal, and you’ll play lacrosse again, and this will all be a distant memory. It could have been worse, but it wasn’t, right?”

He nodded, but he wouldn’t look at me. I tipped my head down, trying to make him meet my eyes so I could get a read on him.

“I think you can spend your time thinking about what could have happened,” I continued. “Or you can be here and be happy about it. I’m definitely happy about it.”

“Me too,” he mumbled.

“Good.” I tossed his laptop to the bottom of the bed, out of reach. “No more news. Play video games. Binge-watch a show on Netflix. No death porn. No actual porn. Can you do that for me, please?”

He kissed me. “Okay.”

I smiled at him. “And…maybe go take a quick shower?”

“That bad?”

“Sort of.” I crinkled my nose. “Plus, I think it’ll make you feel better.”

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t make a move toward the bathroom either.

“What?” I asked.

“I haven’t looked at the incision yet.”

“At all?”

“I got a glimpse when I changed at the hospital this morning and almost hurled.”

“Want me to look first?” I probably sounded a little too excited. “I’m not at all squeamish. I’m actually kind of fascinated by this stuff.”

I started to pull the blanket down, but he slapped my hand. “No way.”

He was laughing, and it was genuine. It was good to see a glimpse of him again.

“You’re right,” he said. “A shower will help.”

I kissed him. His lips weren’t warm and soft like they usually were, and I wished I’d thought to pick up some ChapStick when I was at the store earlier.

“You take a shower and I’ll get the spaghetti.” I patted his leg. “And while we eat dinner in bed, we’re going to start planning that road trip of yours. We’ll scour the Internet for the very best camping spots with the fewest bugs between here and Oregon. Doesn’t that sound romantic?”

“Extremely.”

“Prom. Graduation. Road trip.”

“Em?”

“Yeah.”

“I love you.”

I planted a quick kiss on his lips. “Of course you do.”

I went back downstairs feeling like I’d done some good. And like things were already on their way back to normal.





Luke was standing on my porch.

I was used to watching him blur by my bedroom window in the dark, and the last time I’d seen him he’d been folded over and lifeless in the front seat of his car. I never expected to see him here.