“Johnny,” he replied, without asking me to clarify my statement.
“Yeah, me too.” Johnny always plays eccentric roles, different roles, ones that help me feel like no matter what my issues, there’s a place for everyone in the world. Dax’s hand moved from the back of the couch to rest on top of my ankle. And in this moment, I felt like this was my place.
CHAPTER 17
When the movie was over, I sat up and stretched. “I’ll be right back,” I said.
As I reached the door, Dax asked, “Where are you going?”
I turned to see a smirk on his face. “Do you really want to know?”
“Not at all.”
I laughed and left without telling him, even though I was sure he actually was curious. I went to the kitchen and grabbed the little corner of cake from the fridge, then brought it back to the break room.
I cleared away some of the toys, set the cake on the coffee table, and sat down next to him, pulling half of the sleeping bag back over our legs. The cake sat under a plastic dome that I hoped had kept it fresh for however long it had been there. Dax had found a new station on the television and I focused on it.
“What are we watching now?”
“Some documentary on Martin Luther King, Jr.”
“Oh right. It’s Martin Luther King Day. I almost forgot.”
“Which is why the library is closed.”
“Right. We’re going to miss part of school tomorrow,” I said.
“Tragic.”
I missed my fair share of school days to anxiety, but this one felt different. “You miss a lot of school. Why?”
“I always have a reason,” he said.
“That was vague and cryptic. You like those kind of answers, don’t you?”
He bumped his knee into mine under the sleeping bag and I wasn’t sure if it was on purpose or an accident. He probably thought that was a good answer to my question.
He nodded his head toward the cake. “Did you bring that in for torture or were you planning on eating it?”
“Did you want cake, Dax?”
“Yes.”
I laughed, sat forward, and attempted to pry off the cover. It was nearly impossible. Dax didn’t move to help and I sensed him silently mocking me.
“I’m eating this whole piece when I get the lid off.”
“But then you’ll get a guilt headache.”
I finally freed the cake, got a finger full of frosting, and smeared it across his cheek.
He tried to give me a serious look but it dissolved into a smile. “Really?” He left the frosting there as I broke the cake in half and ate my portion. It was so sweet it made my cheeks hurt. He ate his half as well, frosting still on his face.
“Are you going to wipe that off?” I asked.
“Nope.”
A stack of napkins sat on the table and I handed him one.
“But then it won’t bother you anymore.”
“You think you know me so well now, huh? Well, you don’t. It doesn’t bother me at all.”
He turned his attention to the television, acting like he didn’t even feel the frosting there.
I sighed and wiped it off myself. I met his stare while I did, my hand on his face, our bodies close, and my heart seemed to stop.
I sat back, threw the napkin onto the coffee table, and positioned myself under the sleeping bag before I did something stupid. “Well, you’re nearly impossible to get to know, but you know that already. You do it on purpose,” I said.
“I do very little on purpose.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
His hand, which was resting on the cushion between us under the sleeping bag, brushed against mine. I had a strange urge to grab hold of it, but I fought it. His leg bumped mine again, but this time stayed, pressed against me, the pressure of it making my brain go soft.
“But, with very little help from you, I think I know you pretty well now too,” I said.
“Oh yeah?”
The volume of the television went up even though neither of us had touched the remote. The news had come on and it was louder than the previous program had been. “Leading the news today, we have an update on the story we brought to you last night out of Utah County. One missing, presumed dead, one injured after the car he was driving crashed in American Fork Canyon Friday night, plunging into the river. Jeff Matson was on his way home from a party with friends. It’s unclear whether alcohol was involved in the accident.” I gasped as my picture came up on the screen. “Autumn Collins, a senior at Timpanogos High School, hasn’t been found. Her belongings were pulled from Matson’s car after he was rushed to the hospital in critical condition. The river has been searched over the last several days. Authorities are worried, given the state she’d have been in after the crash and the low temperatures, that she didn’t survive the accident. Search parties have been scouring the woods bordering the river, but the search was called off last night as another snowstorm pummeled the area. Matson remains in critical condition at Primary Children’s Hospital in Salt Lake.”