Noah

I finish up my program report from Antigua, the college asked me to hand in. It is part of the lengthy process of getting special admission for the summer courses despite my gap year. One might think a college would be happy to let students get ahead in their credits before they start as freshmen, but if you aren’t already fully enrolled, it’s a surprisingly difficult process. I knew what I was getting into when I decided to volunteer right out of high school, and it was most definitely worth it, but it doesn’t make the bureaucratic process any less tedious. 

Feeling pretty good about my progress, I allow myself to swivel in my chair and stare out the window for a few minutes, doing what I’ve been doing for the past week. Daydreaming. Or rather, remembering my lessons with Tay with some details that probably weren’t there. Like his cheeky smile, his warm hazel eyes, and his freckles, which are more pronounced when he blushes. I’m pretty sure he has not yet blushed in my presence, but the picture is, for some reason, still clear as day. I sigh. I’ve been hoping that my impression of Tay would revert to the image of the chaotic little pain in the neck he once was as soon as we started the lessons. But I was wrong. If anything, my obsession with his every move and every word is growing exponentially. If I was a little distracted by him in the first session, I could barely keep my eyes off him by the third. How he hasn’t noticed yet, I’m not sure.

Apart from my growing need to count every single freckle on his body, the lessons are going much smoother than I expected.

One big advantage of speech practice is that we, well, are speaking. Admittedly, Tay is fumbling his way through most sentences still, but I got to know more about him and what kind of person he has become than I have in the past five years. 

Our last deeper conversation was at an age when his obsessions lay with trading cards and superheroes, and the depth didn’t reach further than the earnest consideration of whether white or dark chocolate is better. 

I look over at my almost-empty stash of sweets and huff at the missing pieces of dark chocolate. In some ways, he hasn’t changed.

Due to the conversations, I know that Tay has been doing well with the school’s basketball team, that he likes to go on small bike tours around town during the summer, and that his current favorite series is Buffy. 

With every session, I get an inkling of what it could be like to be friends with Tay, and as I suspected, I like the idea. I really, really like the idea. Almost as much as I like his habit of biting his lip when he is deep in thought or his proud smile he can’t quite hide, whenever he gets something right.

My phone alarm rings the end to my break and shakes me out of my trance. Time to work on that special circumstances letter.

❖ 

It is only when the doorbell goes off that I pull out of work mode, surprised and slightly thrilled that it’s already time for our fourth session. I blink and rub my eyes, hastily getting up to open the door for Tay. As we get back to my room, my mind is distracted by the sentence I didn’t get to finish and my fingers itch to get it out.

“Sorry,” I say, giving in to the urge, “I still have something to finish up, give me a few minutes.”

I pull over my laptop, hastily typing at least a few notes on what I meant to say and how to continue next, while in the corner of my eyes, I am well aware of Taylor observing me. Under his gaze, a bunch of butterflies seem to let loose in my stomach.

“Have you eaten?” I try to multitask because his gaze is distracting. 

“Not really. Taco Tuesday," he adds. Something only students and affiliates of our school would understand.

“Are they still as bad as I remember?”

“I feel like they have gotten worse. Like, how can tacos be that soggy?” 

I save my file and quickly shut down my laptop before finally turning my whole attention to Tay, whose nose is scrunched up in the cutest way. To distract from my thoughts, I say, “I haven’t eaten either. How about we order something?”

I am on the right track, seeing as Taylor’s face lights up with the question. I sit on my hands, just so I don’t give in to the urge to ruffle his hair. 

“Pizza?” he asks excitedly, but immediately backpedals, “Or, no, how about that new Thai place?”

“There’s a new Thai place?”

He takes out his phone and pulls up a menu to show me. He leans in, his face getting so close that I can count his lashes. I take a deep breath to calm down, only to be hit by his pleasant scent. Goddamnit.

Once we are done with our orders, I hastily switch to German and ask him how his day has been, if only to distract myself. From his pretty fluent answer, I get the impression that he has put in a lot of practice on his own. It warms my heart to see him get out of his shell and progress so fast. I stand by my comment that all I’m doing is helping him polish his skills.

Soon, our session is disrupted by a welcome break when the food arrives.

We have just dug in when my phone vibrates in my pocket. I keep eating, but since we are technically not doing anything, I could probably relax my ‘no phones during the session’ rule, right? The call stops just as I take the phone out of my pocket. The caller ID ‘Christopher’ makes me frown. What’s Chris calling me for? He never calls, but only ever texts, ‘cause he knows my introvert ass doesn’t answer calls. Just as I debate whether to return the call, the phone lights up again. Okay, seems urgent. 

“Sorry, I have to take this,” I say to Tay while already swiping to accept the call. “Hello?”

I don’t even get to leave the room before I hear broken breaths come out of the speaker.

“Noah, I-I fucked up.”

I hastily escape into my little sister’s room and lean with my back against the shut door.

“Chris? Talk to me.”

“My- My mom found out.” 

I swallow heavily. “Where are you right now?”

“I–I don’t know, she was so angry. I just had to get out. I’m at a playground, I’m not sure-”

His words are not easy to understand, constantly broken by heavy breaths and choked sobs. I grip my phone harder.

“Send me a pin.”

“Uh, y-yeah.”

A few seconds later, I get a location message from him.

“Alright, I know where you are. Stay there. I’ll be there in 10 minutes.”

“I’m sorry I’m bothering you with this, I just didn’t know who else-” he stops talking, and I know how he wants to finish that sentence: who else to trust. Fuck this world where you can’t be sure who will take action against you when you just want to be yourself.

I end the call with a few reassuring words and get moving, quickly fishing my bag out of my room and then going back to the kitchen, where Tay has stopped eating and is looking somewhat sick.

“You okay?”

“Everything okay?” 

We say at the same time. Tay shrugs while I shake my head. “I’m sorry, there is an emergency. I have to leave and take care of … something. How about we move this session to tomorrow?”
“Um, sure.”

“Take your time with the food and just close the door when you leave.”

“Okay.”

Tay’s answers are short and his expression is odd, but I guess that’s to be expected when your tutor runs out on you. I have no time to pay it any mind. Within half a minute, I take a last bite of my food, slip into my running shoes, grab my keys, and have my car up and running, speeding down the road, scratching on the limit that is allowed. 

It doesn’t even take me 10 minutes to reach the parking space next to the church and playground. I know it too well, because I once helped collect donations to build the very playground I’m heading towards now. I see Chris sitting on one of the benches away from a group of parents watching their kids play. His head is buried in his hands. He doesn’t look up even when I crouch down in front of him.

“Chris.”

He jolts and raises his head. His eyes are red and puffy, and his hair ruffled as if he ran his hands through it a hundred times before I arrived here. Which he probably has. His expression, which was previously blank and in shock, turns devastated.

I run a hand over his cheek, wiping away traces of tears, unsure what to say. It would be ridiculous to ask if he was okay when the answer to that is clear.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask instead.

And as if I pulled a plug, words pour out of him.