Page 95 of The Story of You

“You know. Like those dancers on TV who look like they’re walking across water. You look like you’re stampeding through a swamp.”

It was oddly helpful.

Fingers snap repeatedly in my face. “Oliver,no. No fucking way. Get your ballerina ass off the ballerina floor.”

Darry’s there in nothing but a pair of black sweats, his vivid green eyes boring into me.

“I live on this floor, dude.”

“Don’t give a fuck, Oli. Get a pillow. A blanket. Pull the bean bag chair onto the floor for all I care, but you’re not lazing across the floor like that. Jesus Christ. Only you would attempt to read on a dance floor.”

He doesn’t wait for me to comply, snatching the book and yanking me up by my wrist at the same time. “What does it matter? It’s clean.”

“My Oliver watch; my rules.”

That’s what they—Darry, Simon, Shane, and Asher—used to say to me when I’d complain that the rules deviated from Silas’s. If I thought it would do any good, I’d remind him I’m a grown man.

“Fine.” I transfer to one of the large pink bean bag chairs near the edges of the floor. I don’t know why Silas never put a sofa for himself down here. Just bean bag chairs he doesn’t like, which is why he’d end up on the floor.

Hmph. Silas was allowed to lie on the floor.

“Book, Darry.” I extend my hand. He relinquishes it, but not without making his concern known via his hesitance to return to his side of the gym.

“You’re about to read the lost pages. Even I nearly ripped them out, but what happened that year—not just to Silas, but you too—that’s why you’re currently … that whole mess we talked about in the kitchen. You deserve to know.”

Right. The thing with no name. “I survived it once, didn’t I?”

He huffs, blowing his loose hair above his forehead. “I guess. Not really. Just … whatever.”

Storming to the other side of the gym, he leaves enough tension in the air to set the scene. I watch him until he’s absorbed, preparing himself to slam his fists into the sand-filled heavy bag.

I take a breath. Okay. We’re in nineteen eighty-seven. Wait, no. It opens with Silas in I dunno what year telling us he’saboutto write about his eighteenth birthday, which was in nineteen eighty-seven.

It’s been seven days since my last attempt to write this. I want to relieve myself of the guilt of what I did if it can be done.

Let’s try this again.

When we pulled up to the swanky hotel, I was alive with nerves.

I’m with Mrs. Brandywine for the night. They stay in the penthouse. Silas has his first glass of scotch. There’s a small velvet box.

There isn’t much else that goes in a tiny velvet box, still, I hoped for cufflinks. It was a solid gold band. Thankfully simple. I couldn’t speak. Breathing was a struggle. The room spun and I tried to stumble back to my drink.

“No, no. Come on. I know it’s a lot, but you’ll be fine. You’ve adjusted to everything else. This is just one more thing.”

That was an admission. Whether he meant to do it or not—though he likely didn’t give a fuck by then—that’s what it was. All the looks. Forbidding me to have boyfriends. Training me to look after his house. He’d patiently introduced one thing and then another until it was commonplace, and I’d adjusted to adding just one more thing.

He didn’t wait for me to calm down. He slipped the ring onto the fourth finger of my left hand.

“It’s pure gold. There isn’t a fathomable reason you need to take it off.” His words were thick with all the violence intended.

In other words: Don’t fucking take it off.

I already have to stop and glance at Darius to remind myself I’m still in the gym with him. He’s involved in some kind of stretch routine. It’s different than how I stretch as a dancer. Less elegant. Choppy, large muscle-group style stretching rather than the graceful and specific ones I do.

Okay. Back to nineteen eighty-seven. Fuck. Silas. By himself and dealing with all this. No, not by himself. He constantly had to think of me too. Every decision he made held me at the forefront. It’s overwhelming reading about it. He’s so fucking brave.

He kissed my neck and the shiver felt good. What did that mean? Did I want it too? Or did I just like having my neck kissed? I closed my eyes and breathed in the scent of safety. I let that be my guide. He kissed some more and ran his fingers up and down my right arm.