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When he’s safely out of earshot, Leo mutters, “He means with the exception of me.”
I laugh. “I’m pretty sure he was talking about my clothes.”
I dressed up too, but like Leo, I have my own definition of what that means. My favorite tulle gown with its trailing, transparent layers and short, puffy sleeves looks like something a vampire would wear if she died when she was twelve years old.
“But black’s his favorite color…” Leo grins. “Hisonlycolor, as far as I’ve seen. Does he know other colors exist? Have you ever seen him wear blue, for instance? Or the ultimate horror…pink?”
I bite my lip to hide my smile. “Don’t make fun of my dad.”
“I would never.” Leo places his palm over his chest in pretend penitence. “I told you, I’m not suicidal.”
“Sometimes you make me wonder.”
“Oh, look!” He grabs my arm, pulling me over to the window.
Snow has started to fall. It drifts down in huge, puffy flakes, obscuring our view of the overgrown backyard.
We stand in silence, watching.
One of my favorite things about Leo is that even though he buzzes at ten thousand beats a minute, he knows when to be quiet, too.
“Let’s go stand in it,” he says.
We sneak out through the conservatory, knowing my poor, stressed mother is sure to assign us another task if she catches sight of us.
The back garden is always like its own secret world, but never more so than when it’s blanketed in snow. The silence is complete, the twelve-foot-tall stone walls and towering trees blocking out any noise from the city beyond.
My parents fell in love in this house. My father almost died in this garden. I was born in one of the rooms upstairs. When I think of leaving, my heart feels stretched to its limit, torn in two directions.
Looking at Leo gives me the same feeling.
You can’t get everything you want. Not when you want two opposite things at once.
I want to keep everything I love, perfect and unchanging, preserved under glass like a snow globe. But I also feel the pull of the great, widesomething more…
“What are you thinking about?” Leo asks me.
He asks that question often, whenever he can’t tell just from the look on my face.
I don’t mind. Not when he’s the one asking.
Leo’s the only person who gets open access to my mind. I can tell him anything, and I don’t have to translate it, minimize it, or change it so it’s what he wants to hear…
Or at least…that’s how it used to be.
Lately, when I look at Leo, I still get that swell of warmth and excitement…
But I also feel like I might burst into tears. Like when you hear a song so beautiful your chest hurts, and you want something you can’t name…something that may not even exist…
I don’t understand what changed between us.
He’s right here, right next to me.
He’s giving me that grin that’s been lighting me up almost every day of my life.
But lately, Leo’s grin is torture as much as pleasure. The smile hasn’t changed…only the way it tears me up inside.
Something deep within me whispers,Tell him…
