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23

He adjusted his position so his arm was under my head, his hand now resting on my back. My heart picked up speed. Joey didn't have any reaction to my nearness. His breathing was normal, and so was his heartbeat—I could tell, because with my ear against his chest now, it was loud.

"Do you know Jacob?" I asked.

"Your boyfriend?"

"He's not my boyfriend."

"Yet?" he said, using the same word I had earlier.

"Right. Do you know him?"

"I thought we already established that I didn't know anyone."

"I thought maybe he'd been in one of your classes before.""Why?" he asked.

"Just wondering."

"Just reminding yourself you have a boyfriend?" He paused, then laughed. "Or were you reminding me? You're the one who came over here."

My cheeks flooded with heat. "No. I wasn't . . . no. I just wondered what you thought of him."

"Of Jacob? Why do you care what I think of him?"

"I don't know. I don't. Never mind."

It was quiet for several minutes and I thought maybe he was on his way to sleep when he said, "Jacob seems nice. He was in my English class last year. He was never a tool to me."

That thought made me smile. "He is nice." I closed my eyes. After a few moments of silence, Joey's breathing became a steady rhythm, lifting my head slightly with every intake. I could feel myself drifting when he adjusted his left arm and his wrist came into view. 7 14 14. "What does your tattoo stand for?" I whispered. If he was already asleep, if he didn't hear me, I'd let it go. And I thought he hadn't heard me.

Then he said, "Independence day."

I was surprised he answered at all. I wondered if he was half asleep, his guard not fully engaged. "I think you're a few days off on that."

"My independence day. The day I let go of caring, of worrying, of everything. The day I first tasted freedom."

He made it sound like a good day, but what he described made me sad. It sounded like it was the day he realized he was alone in the world. How could that be a good day? I knew he didn't want my pity, though, so I didn't offer it. "Did something happen on that day to make you realize that?"

"Yes," was all he said.

"Freedom, huh? So when you're eighteen and graduated you want to leave here?"

"Yes."

"Where do you want to go?"

"Anywhere. Knowing I can leave when I want, that nothing is holding me here, is the only thing that keeps me sane. It's why a group home would kill me."

Silence hung around us. His shivering had finally stopped. I thought about moving away now that he was warmer, but I couldn't. "I won't tell anyone you were here."

"Thank you," he whispered.

I smiled. He did know those words.

The weight of Joey's arm draped across my waist held me in place the next morning. I didn't want to move and wake him up. I was on my right side, facing away from him. He was behind me, his breath warm on the back of my neck. I tried to control the goose bumps that were forming up and down my arms.

It was the first morning I'd woken up before him. It was our last full day here. In about twenty-four hours, someone would unlock those doors and we'd be free.

Joey stirred next to me and I closed my eyes again so it didn't seem like I'd been lying there awake this whole time, enjoying his arm around me. At first, his hold around my waist tightened and he took a deep breath, then, as if he realized what he was doing, he cursed quietly and backed away. The cold air bit into my skin, a wake-up call to more than just one of my senses. I could not in any way become attached to the guy who'd just told me the night before he didn't form attachments. He had a tattoo on his arm branding him a loner. What made me think I would be any different to him than anyone else? I wasn't. We were just trying to make the best of a weird situation we'd been thrown into together. This was all temporary. When we were out, everything would be back to normal.