thought was possible was destroyed in that one embrace.
Just as Michael turned to run from the scene, Nakano turned his head and saw him. His eyes, two black dead holes, showed absolutely no emotion, but his mouth formed a victorious smile.
chapter 8
Michael was hardly interested in trigonometric functions, but today he hung on every word that came out of Father Fazio’s mouth. He wasn’t fascinated by what his teacher was saying, nor did he fully grasp the importance of learning about right angles, but if he focused on each word of the lesson, he wouldn’t have to think about Ronan. Or about Ronan and Nakano hugging in the shadowlight. Or about how Michael and Ronan had ended even before they truly began. He needed to occupy his mind with something else, anything, so he tried to push everything else from his mind and just concentrate on what his teacher said. It wasn’t working.
There were several reasons why: Father Fazio, one of the few priests who taught at the academy, spoke in a monotonous drone that lulled students to sleep. Michael didn’t like math, so even during the most interesting or easy-to-follow lessons, his mind had a tendency to stray. But mainly it wasn’t working because Ronan was sitting two seats behind him to his left and had been trying to get his attention ever since he walked into the room.
Ronan was already seated when Michael entered a few seconds before the last bell and looked relieved when he saw him. Michael, on the other hand, looked startled. He knew Ronan would be in class, but he had avoided seeing him all day, so this was their first encounter and it made his stomach flip. Earlier in the day, he ignored his text messages and rebuffed his request to meet at St. Joshua’s, claiming he needed to catch up on some reading. But when he entered the room, the magnetic pull between the two boys was in full force and Michael’s eyes immediately found Ronan’s.
Briefly, Michael forgot about his odd behavior and the hug and he only saw Ronan, handsome and muscular and staring right at him, but then it came back to him in a flash and he realized no matter how hard he wanted to erase what had happened, he couldn’t. Head down, Michael walked to his seat and gave Ronan the barest of nods and a quick half smile before sitting down and facing the front of the classroom.
If this were British literature, Michael could lose himself in the lecture, or if Father Fazio looked more like Professor McLaren, good-looking and tanned instead of portly and pasty, Michael’s mind could wander in a different direction, but every few minutes, no matter how hard he tried to pay attention to the mathematical drivel about sine and cosine, his mind always wound up at Ronan’s doorstep.
Finally, he gave in and for the last ten minutes of class, he ignored everything his teacher said and thought about Ronan. Replaying in his mind Ronan pushing Nakano, whispering to Nakano, hugging Nakano, over and over again. Out of the corner of his eye, Michael could see Ronan try to smile at him. He’s acting like nothing happened. Maybe nothing did happen, Michael told himself. No, no, he saw it with his own eyes.
Why won’t he look at me? Ronan knew he had acted strangely yesterday, but he didn’t think he deserved the silent treatment. There were some things that Michael didn’t understand just yet, might never understand, but he had to know how he felt about him. He had never been so obvious in all his life. He had never before taken such a chance on exposing himself, but the moment he saw Michael’s beautiful face outside the cathedral, he knew the time had come. Their time had come, but now it appeared as if their time was already over. What in the world was going on?
Before the bell stopped ringing, Michael was already at the door. Ronan had to push past some students just to catch up to him. He wasn’t letting him get away, not after the risks he had already taken.
“Michael,” Ronan called out. “Wait up.” Instinct lost and Michael obeyed. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Don’t look into his blue eyes, Michael told himself. Don’t look at how shimmery they are and don’t give him the satisfaction.
“Is something wrong?”
All around them, boys hurried past, laughed, shouted, but the space between the two of them was silent. There was so much they both wanted to say to each other, but how to begin? How could Michael say what was really in his heart when he hardly understood it himself? He had lived such a sheltered life in Nebraska, so alone and lonely, that the first time he met a boy who he thought was interested in him, a boy that stirred within him a real passion, he made a fool of himself. He created a world that didn’t exist. He built a relationship based on a few conversations because he was so desperate to connect with someone else. It didn’t matter that in his heart and his mind he felt the connection was real. It didn’t matter that he felt a peace he had never known. It was all fake.
Michael shook his head. “No, why?”
This wasn’t how it was supposed to be, Ronan thought. This boy was supposed to be his salvation. He had lived long enough, lived through enough to know the difference between finding someone who would be a fun mate and finding someone who would change your life forever. Michael was supposed to be the latter. He was supposed to be the one who would make his life, as unnatural as it was, feel normal. No, much more than that— feel astonishing and worth living. Why was he acting like this? Like none of that was true when Ronan knew, fully and completely, that it was.
“You’re, um …” Ronan suddenly became aware that they weren’t alone but in a crowded hallway. “Could we go somewhere and talk?”
Yes, Michael thought, let’s go somewhere where it’s just the two of us. Nobody else, no other students, no teachers, no Nakano. “No.” Michael didn’t mean to sound so blunt, but it actually felt good to be direct. “No, we can’t.”
This was new for Ronan, this feeling of defeat. But he was a survivor and he wasn’t going to give in so easily. “What about after class?”
His strong defense fading, Michael knew he had to break free from Ronan’s presence. There was something about him, something about his eyes, his cool smell, like mist on a lake, that he just couldn’t fight. “Maybe.” No, stand up for yourself, have some respect. “Probably not; I’ve got a lot of reading to do.”
He’s lying, I know it. I don’t know why, but I just know it. “More reading?” Ronan asked.
“Yes,” Michael said softly. “More reading.”
If only I hadn’t seen the two of them together, Michael thought, the anger building within him. If only I didn’t know that the boy in front of me, who held such hope yesterday, was the bearer of such misery today, then I could smile and flirt, or try to flirt, and say “Of course we could meet after class; there isn’t anything else I’d rather do.” And there wasn’t anything else Michael wanted to do, but to spend hours in Ronan’s company, but that wasn’t going to happen. It was that simple.
“Bye,” Michael said. As he walked past Ronan, their shoulders brushed against each other. Despite his resolve, he could feel the excitement grow within him, in the pit of his stomach, such a strong sensation that now would just lie there with the rest of his anger and his frustration.
“Wait!” Michael stopped, but didn’t turn around. He felt that if he did, he would do something stupid like start to cry or yell and he couldn’t do either, not here, and there was no reason to, there was nothing between Ronan and Michael now except a few conversations and a magical meeting under the stars and in a rainstorm. That was it. That was all. “This is for you.”
Ronan handed Michael a piece of paper, actually more like parchment, folded up. When Michael took it, he made sure not to touch Ronan’s fingers either accidently or on purpose. There was no reason to touch him any longer. There might be a need, but there was no longer a reason.
“What is it?” Michael asked, trying to sound uninterested.
Kiss him, Ronan heard himself say silently. Kiss him and make him understand that there was a reason they met, there was a reason he came to this particular school out of all the schools in the world and they happened to be in the same place at the same time that first night. There are no coincidences. Ronan knew that; Michael had to learn. But he kept all that information to himself. “Just something I drew. I thought you might like it.”
“Oh, thanks.” Michael slipped the paper between some pages of his geometry textbook. He couldn’t look at it now; in fact, he couldn’t bear another second looking at Ronan’s face. “I have to go.” This time when he turned and walked away, he didn’t turn back even though he knew Ronan stood there waiting for him to do so. The strength of his conviction surprised them both.
The rest of the day was a blur, a cyclone of thoughts and impressions and feelings most all of which had to
