Page 41 of Collin: Episodes 1-3
Collin pressed the rim to his lips. Liquid filled his mouth. He swallowed.
“More.”
Collin’s hand flexed. There was condensation on the bottle’s surface. A glass bottle. Not something inexpensive. The juice tasted fresh and both sweet and tart. He shivered.
“All of it, Collin.”
More swallowing. Coolness flooded out from his mouth, throat, and stomach into the rest of him. He shuddered and tipped the bottle up, finishing off the last of it.
Mr. Reevesworth plucked the bottle from his hand. “Talk to me, Collin.”
Collin looked down at his hands. They were wet. They needed to be dried. Should he use his pants? They were new. But it was just water.
He flexed his fingers, opening and closing his wet palms.
“Collin.”
He looked up. “Sir?”
“Tomorrow the doctor is going to ask me if I’ve seen any unusual behavior. And though I don’t think this is from your injury, I do need to know what’s going on. You’ve been uncommonly quiet. What are you thinking about?”
Collin looked away, toward the window again.
“Don’t go away, Collin. Focus on me.”
Collin dragged his eyes back. The cold in his belly was bigger now. He drew his knees up to his chest. But Mr. Reevesworth was still there. He had to do something, bring something up to the surface, give the man a reason to believe everything was all right so he would go away.
Just like his teachers would in high school.
If only the nothingness would swell out of his chest and hide him until he was ready to come back.
“I’m just enjoying the quiet, sir. It’s nice. I haven’t had a vacation in years.”
Mr. Reevesworth’s body was tight. He didn’t have to be touching the man to know it. It was in his posture, the way he was breathing. The man was frustrated. He should do something about it. Smile. Make a joke. Talk about something. Anything.
“The podcasts are nice.”
“Which one have you listened to?”
Shit. “The…the blue one. And the red one, with the face on it.”
“What did you like about the blue one?”
Please stop asking questions! “I think they had some very good points and broke down the topic really well.”
“Oh? Which topic?”
Collin pressed his teeth together. “The topics, sir.”
“Collin.”
“I’m trying, sir. You asked me to talk. I’m talking.”
“Hmm…” Mr. Reevesworth shifted around on the ottoman, leaning back against the armrest of a nearby chair. “So, the next time your mother sends policemen to my door, what should I tell them?”
Collin bit the inside of his cheeks. “Give them my phone and tell them that I fled to Cancun in embarrassment. I’m going to make my living as a pool boy and make all her dreams come true.”
A laugh burst out of Mr. Reevesworth’s chest. “Are you going to go for the buff, muscled look or the slender Speedo style?”
