As if I could physically feel the words gathering in my mouth, I swallowed them back down so they couldn’t pass through my lips. The scars on my wrists felt hotter on my skin, under my cuffs, reminding me she’d been right.

I had to hide my voice. I had to protect my heart. I couldn’t go through it all again. I couldn’t let another like Annabelle win again.

Reaching the kitchen, Levi nervously cleared his throat. His thick arm reached across me to open the door. Glancing back, surprised at such a chivalrous gesture, I nodded my head and mouthed, “Goodnight.”

Levi opened his mouth, looking like he wanted to say something. But his expression fell and he simply replied, “Night, Elsie. Sleep tight.” As his sweet southern drawl wrapped around my name like an embrace, I wanted to tell him how I loved his accent, the way it curled around my name. But of course, I didn’t.

Stepping through the kitchen, I heard the door close behind me. With my feet planted on the tiled floor, I concentrated on breathing. My heart was racing. My hands were trembling, and my eyes lost focus in the darkness. I needed a minute to realize what I’d done. I had just spent time with a boy. No, more than that, I’d found a sweet and kind soul.

My chest filled with light, and I pushed myself to move, gripping the homemade lightning bug jar closely to my chest. I was silent as I made my way to my room. It wasn’t until I was halfway up the stairs that Levi’s scent drifted to my nose.

I stopped, suddenly remembering I still wore his hoodie. Ducking my nose into the collar, I breathed deep, feeling a flutter in my heart. Not wanting to keep something else of his, I turned on the steps and quickly made my way back to the pool house.

I rushed across the yard and arrived at his door. The doorknob was still open and I went through. Expecting him to be back in bed, I startled when Levi was sat at his desk, a small lamp his only light. He had a pen in his hand and books were strewn over the tabletop. Yet he wasn’t working. He was sitting back in his chair, staring at nothing, his pen flicking back and forth in his hand.

Clearly hearing me sneak back into the pool house, his head turned in my direction. His gray eyes were narrow, until he spotted that it was me. Then they became wider. Levi jumped from his chair and got to his feet.

“Elsie? You okay?”

Nodding my head, I inched further into the room, until I stood almost where Levi waited. Placing the jar on the desk, I took out my pen and pad, and wrote, “I forgot I was wearing your sweatshirt.”

Levi read the sentence when I held it out; tension seemed to seep from his body. “Keep it, Elsie.”

I shook my head. Moving to lift it over my head, he was suddenly before me, holding my arms down at my sides. I met his eyes, unable to read what was in their depths. I heard his breathing deepen and his hands briefly tensed on my arms.

I breathed too, soft simple breaths, until Levi stepped back, pointing at the sweatshirt again and assured, “Keep it.”

Dropping the hem of the sweatshirt, I went to retrieve my jar, when the lamp on his desk caught my eye. I glanced to the books on the table, and took hold of my pad. “You don’t want to sleep?” I wrote and held it out to Levi.

Levi read the words, then shook his head, no. Sensing he wasn’t going to say anything else on the matter, I peeked at the page that was open on his desk. The page featured the picture of a painting. It looked like an old painting. Needing to move closer, curiosity controlled my feet. I stood right in front of the picture and bent down to inspect its details.

The picture showed water, images of people drowning under stormy waves: several images of men and women. I studied the men and the women closer: I realized all the images of men were the same man, and the images of the women were all the same woman. My heart lurched at such a sad portrayal, particularly since the picture displayed their bodies tumbling in a strong current, each image showcasing a phase of their struggle. Sadder still, they were reaching for one another, but they couldn’t quite catch each other’s hands.

They were being driven apart.

My chest ached. Yet I remained transfixed on the page; on drowning lovers desperately trying to hold on to one another, but failing in their efforts. For a moment I had forgotten Levi was in the room, too lost in the tragic scene.

“Hero and Leander.” Levi’s husky voice retrieved me from my trance. I turned my head and he had moved right beside me, his arm just a fraction from touching mine. I looked to his face, and he pointed to the painting. “Peter Paul Ruben’s ‘Hero and Leander’. It was painted in the seventeenth century.”

I stared at this boy, this beautiful boy, and hung on his every word. Levi’s hand fell away from the page and he stepped back from the desk. He appeared embarrassed about what he’d just told me.

Reaching for my pen and paper, I hesitated to write my question, not wanting to appear stupid. As if sensing my concern, Levi tapped the page my pen hovered above and said, “Please, ask whatever you wish.”

Quashing my embarrassment, I wrote, “Who are Hero and Leander?”

As Levi read the question, he smiled and his stormy gray eyes lit up. But he wasn’t laughing; I could see that whatever I asked had sparked something in his heart.

Levi glanced behind him, then moved to the side of the room. He picked up a chair and brought it to the desk, right beside the one in which he’d been sitting when I entered the pool house.

Levi held the chair out and flicked his head for me to sit down. Clutching the pen and paper to my chest, I sat on the soft chair, and Levi slipped onto the chair beside me.

This close I could smell the spice and warmth of his scent, the smell brought me comfort and peace. I sighed in contentment at the stark change—of being here in the warm, safe with this boy—compared to where I had been mere days before.

Levi shifted on his seat, drawing my attention. He sat forward and pulled the book closer to the edge of the desk. My eyes sought the painting on the page, and I waited eagerly for him to speak.

Levi flicked his gaze at me from the corner of his eyes before pointing at the page again.  “Hero and Leander,” he started quietly. I could hear the nerves in his voice, a fact I found only endearing. “They are lovers, found in Greek mythology.” Levi paused, met my eyes, then explained, “That’s what I’m studying in school. Mythology, it’s my major.”

I nodded my head, so bowled over by everything I was discovering about this boy. He was a mystery to me. When I first saw him at the college that day, I assumed he was just another typical jock. All about sport and girls. Given his looks, it was an easy assumption to make. But being in his company for just a few minutes, I could see he was nothing like he appeared on the surface. There was so much more to him than I could have ever imagined.