Read Online Boy from the Woods (9781311684776) by Jen Minkman - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jen Minkman
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joy
radiating from her face sadly wasn’t enough to make Julia equally
upbeat. She dragged herself up the stairs to the second floor with
a nervously hammering heart.
The last time
she’d walked these stairs, his hands had caressed her hips, his
mouth trailing a warm path in her neck. Giggling and love-drunk, she’d tripped over the uppermost
step, and he had caught her in his strong arms.
Her eyes got
blurry. She only realized she was crying when she looked at herself
in the long mirror hanging on the wall next to Michael’s room. She
sniffled in frustration, rooting around
in her bag for a napkin to wipe away her tears. Of course, she
shouldn’t give a hoot what Michael thought of her, but her
indifference to his opinion still didn’t mean she should make a
tear-stained entrance. She had more pride than that.
When she
pushed open his bedroom door at last, she did her best to keep a
straight face. “Hi,” she said softly.
Michael was
sitting on the edge of his bed, a bandage ar ound his head. He looked up at her and her heart skipped a
beat. Once again, she had the feeling he was looking at her in a
new way. As if he really saw her.
“Julia,” he replied,
equally soft. He said her name with
obvious joy in his voice, and she couldn’t prevent a tentative
smile from tugging at her lips. He got up and took a step toward
her, his eyes never leaving hers. “It’s so good to see
you.”
She
quickly looked away, staring at her feet
in his lush carpet in utter confusion. On the floor under his bed,
she spied a copy of Chess
Novel by Stefan Zweig. Next to it was the
jewel case of Enya’s album Watermark . Only then did she
notice that her favorite music was playing. It was like walking
into her own room – as if Michael could read her mind and wanted to
make her feel at home.
All of
sudden, she remembered watching a TV show about near-death
experiences with Gran once. It featured interviews with
people who’d had a brush with death but
came back to life afterward, and from that point onward they were
able to feel and see things that normal people couldn’t. Could
something like that be going on with Michael?
“It’s good to
be here,” she replied, a half-question in her voice. Was it?
Michael put
his hand on her shoulder. When she looked back up at him, she saw
something in his eyes that she couldn’t quite place – a kind of melancholy was hiding in his gaze;
some sort of wistfulness she had never seen there
before.
“This must be
difficult for you,” he spoke quietly, gesturing around him. “You don’t have good memories of this room.” His lips formed
a bitter smile. “Or of me.”
A stab went through her
heart. Why did he think it was necessary
to drag up how things had been between them? If he regretted the
way he’d treated her, he could just apologize to her.
“Why did you invite me?” she blurted out, gazing at
him quizzically.
A
gentl e look brightened Michael’s eyes, a
smile spreading across his face. Not a teasing smile, nor a mocking
smirk – it was the most genuine smile she had ever seen on his
face. He looked delighted, enraptured like a child seeing snow for
the first time. “Because I wanted to see you,” he said, taking a
step closer and taking her hand. “I was asleep. You woke me up
again.”
Julia closed
her eyes despondently. Of course he was grateful to her for
rescuing him from eternal sleep. That was all it was: gratitude. He
was probably too proud to offer a real apology. Maybe she was too eager to believe he might have
changed.
“I have to
go.” She carefully pulled her hand from
his grasp.
“Already?
You just got here.”
She shrugged and didn’t reply.
Michael inhaled audibly. “Just stay for a
little while longer,” he said hoarsely.
Seriously,
what was the matter with him? He sounded so different from his
usual self. Full of a longing she hadn’t heard in his voice before,
even though she’d wanted to hear it with all her heart.
“I’m
radiating from her face sadly wasn’t enough to make Julia equally
upbeat. She dragged herself up the stairs to the second floor with
a nervously hammering heart.
The last time
she’d walked these stairs, his hands had caressed her hips, his
mouth trailing a warm path in her neck. Giggling and love-drunk, she’d tripped over the uppermost
step, and he had caught her in his strong arms.
Her eyes got
blurry. She only realized she was crying when she looked at herself
in the long mirror hanging on the wall next to Michael’s room. She
sniffled in frustration, rooting around
in her bag for a napkin to wipe away her tears. Of course, she
shouldn’t give a hoot what Michael thought of her, but her
indifference to his opinion still didn’t mean she should make a
tear-stained entrance. She had more pride than that.
When she
pushed open his bedroom door at last, she did her best to keep a
straight face. “Hi,” she said softly.
Michael was
sitting on the edge of his bed, a bandage ar ound his head. He looked up at her and her heart skipped a
beat. Once again, she had the feeling he was looking at her in a
new way. As if he really saw her.
“Julia,” he replied,
equally soft. He said her name with
obvious joy in his voice, and she couldn’t prevent a tentative
smile from tugging at her lips. He got up and took a step toward
her, his eyes never leaving hers. “It’s so good to see
you.”
She
quickly looked away, staring at her feet
in his lush carpet in utter confusion. On the floor under his bed,
she spied a copy of Chess
Novel by Stefan Zweig. Next to it was the
jewel case of Enya’s album Watermark . Only then did she
notice that her favorite music was playing. It was like walking
into her own room – as if Michael could read her mind and wanted to
make her feel at home.
All of
sudden, she remembered watching a TV show about near-death
experiences with Gran once. It featured interviews with
people who’d had a brush with death but
came back to life afterward, and from that point onward they were
able to feel and see things that normal people couldn’t. Could
something like that be going on with Michael?
“It’s good to
be here,” she replied, a half-question in her voice. Was it?
Michael put
his hand on her shoulder. When she looked back up at him, she saw
something in his eyes that she couldn’t quite place – a kind of melancholy was hiding in his gaze;
some sort of wistfulness she had never seen there
before.
“This must be
difficult for you,” he spoke quietly, gesturing around him. “You don’t have good memories of this room.” His lips formed
a bitter smile. “Or of me.”
A stab went through her
heart. Why did he think it was necessary
to drag up how things had been between them? If he regretted the
way he’d treated her, he could just apologize to her.
“Why did you invite me?” she blurted out, gazing at
him quizzically.
A
gentl e look brightened Michael’s eyes, a
smile spreading across his face. Not a teasing smile, nor a mocking
smirk – it was the most genuine smile she had ever seen on his
face. He looked delighted, enraptured like a child seeing snow for
the first time. “Because I wanted to see you,” he said, taking a
step closer and taking her hand. “I was asleep. You woke me up
again.”
Julia closed
her eyes despondently. Of course he was grateful to her for
rescuing him from eternal sleep. That was all it was: gratitude. He
was probably too proud to offer a real apology. Maybe she was too eager to believe he might have
changed.
“I have to
go.” She carefully pulled her hand from
his grasp.
“Already?
You just got here.”
She shrugged and didn’t reply.
Michael inhaled audibly. “Just stay for a
little while longer,” he said hoarsely.
Seriously,
what was the matter with him? He sounded so different from his
usual self. Full of a longing she hadn’t heard in his voice before,
even though she’d wanted to hear it with all her heart.
“I’m
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