Intertwined

Chapter Fourteen

Normally, I couldn't find a reason to let any day of the week stand out from the rest, let alone a Tuesday. Instead of the friends I'd been expecting to pick me up this morning, Lyall was the one stationed in front of my house. I couldn't explain how my body exploded on the inside, let alone understand how I'd still been able to walk toward his car.

"Well, don't you look handsome," Lyall said, reaching for a hug.

I embraced him, getting lost in the deep woodsy scent. "And that's coming from you. I'm flattered."

I'd been prepared for whenever he'd come back that we'd need a few seconds to defrost and reconnect. I worried that maybe the time apart left room for doubt. I'd been wrong. The impossible but real bond between us left no room for awkwardness. I still felt nervous, as was usual, but not in a deep rooted way, more like the butterflies that battered against my stomach left me speechless.

We'd launched into a conversation with no need of small talk. I didn't need to ask what he'd been up to because I already knew. It was his questions that were filled with what my days consisted of.

He continued to ask question after question, leaving little room for me to even breathe. In the smaller intervals I'd get to ask my own questions, or comment on something that happened in the past. I wasn't even aware that I was at school until he'd leave me at each class, but even then the forty minute interval felt fast forwarded.

In Home ech, Mrs. Grand had assigned groups based on the seating arrangement, which allowed for Lyall to be my partner for the big assignment that would be worth fifty percent of our grade. It didn't seem hard.

"So before the doom and gloom," I said, using the description that was supposed to push me away, "what did you do for fun?"

He finished writing his name on the top of the packet, "I used to do football and wrestling. Sporty stuff."

"Did you like it?" I wondered. I hated all sports other than volleyball, but I contemplated on whether or not I'd come to his games and cheer him on. The actual point system and rules would make no sense to me, but I came to the conclusion that I would go. For him.

"It was fun, yeah, but it wasn't what I wanted," Lyall said, "I was shoved into a box because of my build and labeled as a jock before I could have any say."

"What would you have done... If you had another choice?" I asked, hoping to take some of that unease from him.

"I loved to write," he said, his gaze far away, beyond the classroom, "I could spend hours at a computer or in a notebook writing just about anything and everything. Research papers were always my least favorite, but that was only because of the extra work that got in the way of the actual writing portion. As soon as I got that out of the way, I could write on it for hours."

"What did you like to write?"

"Poetry," he said without missing a beat. As soon as he said the word, his body relaxed, like all the weight he'd been carrying around slipped off for the moment.

"What about it do you like?" I asked, engulfed in the light that entered his eyes, wanting to prolong his bliss.

"The freedom. In poetry, you can really do what you want, write about what you want, and no one can say a word about it," he said, becoming completely animated, " I mean, yeah, there are certain parts where you have to obey specific rules or regulations, but when I get to do it alone, I can't be told what to do. I can be as vague or as detailed as I want. I used to think that reading poetry was the best thing on the planet, but that changed the first time I tried it. I still enjoy reading it, but not as much as I do writing it."