Lost | √

Chapter Thirteen

"I know," he finally replies after a heavy pause. "I am too," he adds as he moves around the kitchen.

It shouldn't hurt. I don't want it to hurt. But it does, his words create a faint crack in the corner of my already fragile heart. Because of course I'm sorry I let us cross that line, but I'm even more sorry that I'm the reason for the bubbling tension that fills the air between him and his brother.

But I think he's more sorry about the kiss. And that shouldn't hurt, I shouldn't care, but here I am letting my heart hurt and care about a beautifully broken boy.

"You're reading them," Clayton comments suddenly as he pours milk into his bowl of cereal. I can't stop the small smile that touches my lips at his choice of midnight snack, and the fact that's he speaking to me. Even if his words are still edged with a hardness I know I had a part in creating.

"You suggested it," I tell him like it's nothing. Because it has to mean nothing, but as his eyes narrow in on me slightly I know he can see the truth. See that I bought these not only because he suggested it, but also because he found something in these books. Something I need to know, because maybe it can help me.

"It has a sad ending," he tells me as if I didn't already see that coming.

A dry laugh falls from mouth. "Don't they all," I tell him, and I know he understands me. I'm not talking about Stephen King's books, or books in general. I'm talking about life, because we both know too much about how quickly life can be taken away. And it rarely ends happy.

Quietness fills both of us as if we don't know what to say next, or we have nothing left to say. The only sounds filling the air are the clinking of our spoons against our bowls. There's so much still to be said, and I want to say it all, I want to say so much to this man who knows me like no one else without even truly knowing me. But I don't say anything, and I don't expect him to say anything.

So when his deep, gravely voice asks me a question I'm stunned. "What's your necklace?" his question stills my body not only from the pure disbelief he's even speaking to me, but also cause its a simple question. Simple, easy, and maybe everything we need to learn to be to coexist for the next couple weeks.

"Oh, um it's a constellation," I tell him fingering the delicate gold necklace that rests around my neck. I've had it for years, and I wear all the time so I rarely notice it anymore. But Clayton did, he noticed something so small, and that shouldn't make my heart beat a little faster. But it does. 

"You wear it all the time," he comments as his eyes narrow in on the simple necklace. "Does it mean something?" he asks as his eyes flicker up to meet mine the hardness that once touched his words beginning to fade.

I wonder for a moment if he is just trying to be polite and talk to me, but I can see the flash of desperate need to know more that flares through his perfect eyes. He wants to know more about me, and maybe that's because I know more about him then he does about me. Or maybe he just simply wants to know, but either way it causes my body to buzz with excitement. Even when it shouldn't.

"It's Cassiopeia," I tell him the constellation that rests above my heart. "It's my middle name," I add lastly, the words feeling weird on my tongue. When people ask about my necklace I always tell them what it is, but I rarely add that last tidbit of myself in there.

"That's your middle name?" he pushes as his curiosity takes over at my odd middle name.

I crack a smile. "Yeah, my great grandparents were astronomers and named my grandma after that constellation and then used it for my mothers middle name," I tell him as my words become slightly strangled when I mention my mother. I clear my throat and continue, "And now mine."