|CHAPTER TWELVE|

Quinn sat beside me listening intently to Zoey’s exaggerated boy drama in the school cafeteria. I tried to mirror Quinn’s absorbed posture, and nodded along when prolonged silence called for it, but my mind was elsewhere.

It amazed me how open other people were. Zoey cussed over a boy she wasn’t attached to. She heatedly recalled an incident where he insulted an aspect of her personality and refused to apologize. He was attractive, but he wasn’t nice. It was the singular most confusing thing I saw in everyone around me: they kept going back to take a sip of poison because it tasted like candy.

When Zoey finished ranting, she got up and left with Noel at her side and I heard a heavy sigh come from Quinn.

She pursed her lips and rested her arms beside her tray. “I know what you’re thinking,” she guessed.

“That people don’t know when to quit?” I said blankly while spooning rice onto my utensil.

She gave me a look that reminded me how much she loved being young and dumb. “Would you quit on your boy toy?”

“Yes,” I replied so quickly the word was almost unrecognizable. I had to hold back shooting her a dirty look for her use of the term boy toy. She thought what I had with Bash was a fling, and I guess it was supposed to be. But, it wasn't anymore. It hadn't been for a long time. I cared about Bash. 

“Really?”

I turned to her with frown. Lately she’d been trying to pry little details about Bash out of me. It drove her crazy that I didn’t want to share everything with her. She said she’d wait for me to say something, but she was getting antsy. That’s just how she was.

My mother knew now, though I couldn’t really tell how she felt about Bash—and Henry, well Henry had picked up on something a long time ago, but he never pushed a discussion. I should be comfortable enough to talk about Bash to Quinn, now. But, I didn’t want to discuss Bash like that. I liked the privacy I had with him. Besides, how was I supposed to say things to Quinn that I couldn't even stomach saying to him?

“Really,” was all I said seriously. It was all I could give her and I didn’t even know if it was true.

She groaned, dropping her chin to her chest. “Are you ever going to tell me about this mystery man?”

I shrugged. “I don’t want to jinx anything.”

“Would it jinx you to tell me his name?” she wondered pressingly, scooping blonde hair off the back of her neck like she was getting hot with impatience.

I tapped my fingers on the freckled surface of the lunch table thoughtfully. Her eyes found mine and held contact, cornering me. She probably thought I didn’t trust her. I was beginning to grow worried that she was offended.

 “Uhm...his name is Bash. Bash Daley,” I finally breathed out.

“Bash.” She tested the way his name rolled off her tongue, smiling a little at her success. “Jovie and Bash....Has a nice ring, doesn’t it?”

I felt my cheeks warm and a small smile tease my lips. “I guess so.”

She nodded and Zoey and Noel returned with icy expressions and black tongues. Like we hadn’t skipped a moment of Zoey’s story, Quinn and I reassumed position.

●════════●♥●════════●

The first time Bash said he loved me was on one of those final semi-comfortable days of fall where summer still attempts to linger in the air while winter is determined to  choke it off.

Leaves fell to the ground in an arrayment of yellows and reds. The mornings were a fog of icy breath and damp air. Yet, Bash wore his aviator sunglasses in the white light that couldn’t cut through the thick mist, and rolled over crunchy leaves on his bicycle in a t-shirt, breathing in the earthy seven a.m. air.

I followed in a sweatshirt with the hood up, watching him silently weave ahead of me. We hadn’t spoken since he picked me up from Henry’s. I was still sleepy, and the cold was flowing through my bloodstream, but I didn’t want to say anything. The quiet was comfortable and watching him was as mesmerizing as watching ocean waves lap against the shore.

“Fall is the loveliest season,” he told me the day before, “I want to soak in the last of it at when it’s at its most honest.”

What he wanted to do was watch the world wake up; so, we began following this mindless route at six in the morning.

Bash looked over his shoulder at my half-lidded eyes with a serene smile. “Peaceful, isn’t it?”

My voice was a scratchy reply, “I could fall asleep.”

“Do you want to stop?”

I shook my head, but he still came to a slow stop before a closed corner shop in the middle of downtown Ashwood Creek. With a gentle chuckle, he leaned forward and dropped a kiss at the corner of my mouth.

“I’m sorry I suggested we do this so early in the morning. I know you stayed up late writing that paper,” he apologized for the second time since he we left Henry’s.

“You were writing last night, too,” I reminded him. “We’re even.”

He watched me pull the sleeves of my sweatshirt over my hands and then pulled a light jacket from his backpack and wrapped it around my shoulders. “I like what I write about, though.”

I smiled gratefully and stuck my arms through the sleeves, sinking contently into the warmth. “And what is it you write about?” I asked curiously for the hundredth time.

He always avoided the question like he was embarrassed. The second time I met him he blushed behind a book. Now, he turned his face away and scratched at his jaw. I was fond of his nervous laughter and the inquisitive look he would cast off into the distance. It made me wonder how I looked in moments like these.

He licked his lips and met my eyes with a foux confidence that made me smile. “I write about you, Jovial.”

The smile vanished, but he held the coolness in his eyes like it wasn’t painful. “Me? Why would you—”

“You are the single most extraordinary human being I have ever encountered,” he cut in quickly, like he was afraid he’d lose his confidence if he didn’t explain himself fast enough. “To capture your very essence is...the most difficult thing I’ve ever tried to do. That’s why I drink when I do it. It makes it easier to access my feelings for you—because I find you terribly intoxicating.”

He looked at me now like he was bleeding out in front of me, nervously begging with his eyes in wonderment of what to do. My mind went blank. Every word in the English language disappeared from my vocabulary for what felt like forever. He shuffled uncomfortably. 

“How can you feel so...strongly?” I asked out loud.

“Because...Jovie, I care for you—I love you...and I know you don’t want to hear that because it scares you, and I don’t care if you love me. I don’t care if you never say it back. When I’m around you it feels easy. I want to learn your bad habits and hear you laugh. You are absolutely going to break my heart and I dread it. It terrifies me. But, it’s you. I’m so lucky to know you and to love you. If you walk away now...”

 A few heartbeats of silence followed his hanging sentence, and he ran his hands through his hair and looked around the empty streets like he felt too exposed in this giant space. Like, nothing was tangible except for him and I but I was untouchable.

I swallowed thickly, suddenly feeling too hot in his jacket. It felt like I held out my hand with an expectant stare, so he ripped out his heart and placed it there. He challenged me to squeeze it dry, but I was too stunned to do anything but wonder why. It was so heavy.

“It would be a little awkward to walk away since I’m sitting on a bike wearing your jacket.”

He paused and looked back at me with glassy eyes. “What?”

I let out a breath and braced my hands on the handle bars tightly. “I...don’t know what I should say.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. “Spare me and don’t say anything at all. I’ve thoroughly embarrassed myself and I—”

“I’m not the person I was a few months ago,” I interrupted. “I took a chance with you and I’m still learning.” His large blue eys snapped open to gaze at me achingly. “Bash, I’m not going anywhere. This is just new.”

He leaned backward like it was the first time he was looking at me—all unfamiliar and inquisitive. “I will never not stop learning you, will I?”

I reached between us and pulled him to me, pressing my lips to his with a certain strength I hadn’t utilized before.

“The mystery is part of the allure, is it not?” I teased against his lips.    

“I want to say something completely ludicrous, again,” he admitted quietly.

It made my chest tighten uneasily. I wanted to hear him say it, but the words scared me—gave me too much power. So, I bit my lip and brushed a strand of gold hair out of his eyes.

“It will make me nervous,” I warned.

His nose brushed against mine. “It will make me nervous, too.”

I kissed him again, and he said those timid words, and I knew I was too far in to back out quietly and without the same detachment I would have before. Funny how that works: love. For the inexperienced it catches you like a gas leak in the middle of the night. Quiet and deadly.

I love you.