Page 29 of Sunrises & Salvation

ADAM

S eptember bleeds into October, the leaves on the trees changing with the season. The bright green colors of the campus are now diluting to orange and red.

Fall break is in a few days, and I’m tagging along with Danielle to go home with Hunter for the three-day weekend. Technically four days since we’ll be leaving Thursday after our last class. Thomas will be there, too, but I’m trying to ignore that fact.

One month of watching Hunter and Thomas, and it’s been torture of epic proportions.

But I stood by my word to stay around. Studying in the library, I’m there.

Hanging out at the coffee shop, I’m there.

Date nights, I’m there. Sometimes as a double date with Danielle, and other times, I’m the creeper having dinner by himself, not able to take my eyes off the couple in the back.

I never said my ways of staying relevant in Hunter’s life were stable, but that they would get the job done.

And so far they have, because the glares stopped and instead have turned into soft gazes when it might seem like no one else is looking.

My messages are blue now, and our conversations are filled with talks of the literature he’s reading for class, the books he’s found at bookstores, and he’s even opening up to me about his side business, asking for my opinions on stuff he’s drawn.

He’s so creative, and I love that about him.

He can take the most abstract thing and create a beautiful piece of art from it; he constantly blows off the praise because they’re just bookmarks.

But I think he has so much more potential than he realizes when it comes to creating things.

But more than that, we just talk about our days. He texts me every morning when he wakes up, no matter how long I’ve been awake. My favorite part is him sending me pictures of the sunrise each morning on his walk across campus.

This morning was no different, but our conversation entered rocky territory. And that’s how I’m finding myself outside of his dorm room, waiting for him to open the door.

I can hear him scrambling off the bed and his footsteps padding across the hard, tiled floor.

The door opens wide, and I’m greeted by mussed brown hair, like he’s spent the last forty-five minutes since he texted me running his fingers through it.

His brown eyes are wide and framed by the dark lashes that I love to stare at when he’s sitting across from me.

His lips are swollen and more pink than normal, hopefully because he’s been nibbling on his bottom lip like he usually loves to do and not because of Thomas.

“Hey, I wasn’t expecting you.”

“That wasn’t a very warm welcome.” His cheeks flush, and the rosy color looks nice against his tanned skin.

“I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Yeah, you said that already.” I smile at him, and his lips tip up, tentatively. “You were complaining about an assignment, and I figured you could use some help.” Or a distraction, but I don’t say that out loud.

“Oh, right. Right.” He clears his throat and nods his head, still blocking the door so I can’t walk in. “I guess I could use some help.”

“Are you going to move over so I can come in, or do you want to work on it right here?” I gesture with my hand to the doorframe.

“Here’s fine. Here’s great.”

He finally steps aside and lets me into the room. I’ve never been inside, and there’s a clear difference in which side is Hunter’s and which side is his asshole roommates. Hunter’s is organized; his desk is cleared off except for a pencil holder filled with pens of varying colors.

Charcoal drawings are taped on his walls, dark shades and light spaces cover the pages.

The lifelike drawings make my fingers twitch, wanting to reach out and trace my fingertips across the art.

People laughing with their eyes crinkled in the corners.

Shadowed faces. Abstract lines formed to create a tree line that mirrors the one from Hunter’s hometown.

“Wow,” I murmur to myself, once again shocked into silence by the complexity of him. He never gives himself enough credit.

“So, I’m having a problem with this text. The professor assigned us all a story to read and examine. It’s easy enough to read and understand, but I just… have mixed feelings.” He sits at his desk, twiddling with his pen and tapping it against his upper lip.

“What’s it about?” I draw my gaze away from his art and sit on the end of the bed, closest to his desk.

“It’s called The Lady, or The Tiger.” Thank fuck, it’s actually something I know about because I read it in high school and quite liked it. I’m surprised it’s in the college curriculum, though.

“I’ve read it. What are you having problems with?” My favorite part of English class was reading and trying to find the deeper details embedded in the text. Authors can write one thing, and every person who reads it can interpret it a different way.

He taps his pen harder against his lip, digging the tip until it leaves behind a small indentation beside his scar.

Hunter sits in silence, and I wait for him to put together his thoughts so I can know what he needs help with.

“What do you think she chose?” he finally asks, putting the pen down and pulling my thoughts away from his mouth.

“Personally, I think she chose the woman.”

“Why?” The story comes to me in bits, and the overall question was, would you rather watch the love of your life be happy with someone else, or be dead?

Which aren’t the greatest options. But it’s a quick death for the man versus a slow one for the woman.

I think of her constantly being in pain, feeling her heart break day after day, watching her beloved move on with someone else.

Someone who isn’t her, just because her dad doesn’t approve.

I think of my life, watching Hunter and Thomas constantly together. Holding hands and sharing food at restaurants. The constant knife in my chest, carving away a sliver of my heart at a time. But I know that I would rather have him around me in any way that I can, rather than never have him at all.

I’ll have to keep stealing these small moments and protecting them from being destroyed.

“Because there would be nothing left for her to live for if her true love was gone.”

“But could you honestly argue that?” Yes, yes I absolutely could.

Because I made the same decision when I chose to back off from Hunter and let him live the life he thinks he needs.

When the day comes for him to come back, I’ll be waiting patiently with my arms wide open because he’s it for me.

I would choose this over and over again, as long as I get the chance to have him.

When he looks at me, I don’t know what my eyes are saying, but he stands up, hesitantly walking around the corner of his bed to come stand in front of me.

The top of his head barely meets my chin from my raised position.

The angle is perfect for me, though, to look down and see the soft swoop of his dark eyelashes every time he blinks, covering his beautiful brown eyes from me for milliseconds at a time. It still feels too long.

My body gravitates toward his, and I tilt my head down until our noses rub together, the soft, sweet motion causing an ache to form in my chest. Being this close to him and not being able to keep him is agony.

“You would rather see the person you love happy with someone else. As long as they’re still living and breathing.

Knowing that you may never get the chance to love them again.

” My whole body hurts at his words, because this moment is careening us toward our end before I’m ready for it.

I’ll never be ready to let him go. “That’s not very selfish of you,” he whispers, his eyes closed.

But he rubs the tip of his nose against mine again.

My eyes are wide as I stare at him, refusing to miss a moment of this.

His cheeks are rosy, flushing beautifully.

He was made to be displayed, like a cherub in a church, so everyone can admire his beauty.

“I don’t want to be selfish,” I reply. His body shudders, and he leans in closer until our chests touch.

The rise and fall of his lungs reacting with my own, when his rises, mine falls.

Like the sun and the moon in orbit, both knowing they’re there, but never being able to see or touch.

Having that constant bond with someone and never being able to act on it, because it would destroy the world as we know it.

Kiss me, I plead, longing and desperation warring in my body with the need to feel his lips on mine. To know that even if we go right back to being friends, and he goes back to his boyfriend, and I go back to my girlfriend, in this moment, we are real.

His nose ghosts across my cheek, the cool air from his exhaling ghosting across my face.

“You’re not selfish, Adam. You’re misunderstood. And that’s okay too.” Please, put me out of my misery. He kisses my cheek, his warm lips pressing against the overheated skin. I turn my head, desperate to get his lips on mine. He tuts, pulling his face back slightly so our lips graze each other.

“I’m sorry, Adam.” But he doesn’t sound sorry at all. “I wish things could have been different for us.”

They can be! Whatever he needs, I’ll give it to him. Expensive dates, ski trips, all the books he could dream of, the best art supplies on the market. I’ll give up my entire life for him.

“I’ll change it. I can do it… for you.” I can feel his resolve failing him, so I continue.

“I’ll take you out, hold your hand in front of everyone, and scream it from the rooftops so people know that you own me.

I always prided myself on my control, and you came by with your brown eyes and that fucking scar, and you ruined it.

” His smile is soft, and I bask in it. “Please, please, Hunter. I’m not above begging you.

Just a chance.” All I need is one fucking chance.

He tilts his head, and our lips meet in a flurry of passion and craving beyond what any person should be able to experience. But the devil himself would have to pry Hunter away from me right now.

Hunter climbs onto my lap, straddling my thighs and keeping us attached at the mouth. I feel like I can breathe again, the life I’m living is mine again, and I’m not just waiting for the next moment.

“Collins,” I groan against his lips.

The door rattles and Hunter jumps off my lap and scrambles to his desk. Hunter’s roommate walks into the room, and I quickly cover my lap with one of Hunter’s pillows.

The stale stench of sweat permeates the air, and my nose scrunches up of its own accord.

His roommate is a dick, but at least he ignores Hunter now. I’d rather he be ignored than subject to the awfulness that I’ve seen his roommate raise with his teammates.

He ignores us, walking in and throwing his stuff on the bed, and then promptly walking back out. I hold my breath for one second, then two. By the time I get to ten, I think the coast is clear.

Hunter chuckles quietly under his breath, and it causes my own laughter to start until we’re both in hysterics.

“That was close,” I say, wiping a stray tear from the corner of my eye.

“Yeah, it was.”

We’re both silent. My mind is reeling from what happened before his roommate walked in.

“Want to go to the café and study for a little bit? Angie’s working on a new brownie recipe.” I nod, and he walks up to me. When he’s in my orbit, I grab him and press a kiss to the top of his head.

I’ll make sure he doesn’t regret giving me a chance.