Read The Glass House for Free Online Page B

didn’t answer. He didn’t seem to be quite with me.
    It perhaps wasn’t a compliment, but Corinne said one of my greatest talents was my ability to appear emotionless, whether I was feeling elation, fear, or utter panic. Right now Thomas was starting to push my all-out panic buttons, and I couldn’t have been more thankful it didn’t show.
    “Thomas. Look at me,” I said, kneeling on the rough carpet in front of him, placing my hands on his knees and pressing firmly as I ran them up and down his thighs. “Look. At. Me.”
    Finally his eyes focused on my face. It was hard to tell in artificial light, but his lips looked tinged with blue.
    “Should I call an ambulance?” I said slowly.
    If he didn’t answer me in the next ten seconds, I was calling one anyway.
    Shaking his head, he brought the inhaler up to his mouth again and took another gasping breath. “This… needs a minute… to work…,” he gasped.
    I had to trust him, but sitting with Thomas as his lungs stopped spasming was possibly the scariest few minutes I’ve ever spent with anyone. Embarrassingly, I began to see the rhythmic motion of my hands stroking his legs was more for me than for him, and slowly I stopped and sat back on my heels. My hands were tingling.
    “Would a glass of water help?” I asked when I could see a little of his normal color returning.
    “Stay… with me,” he pleaded, shaking his head.
    I nodded, tried to smile, all the while utterly confused by the protective surge rushing through me, making me want to say things I would never say, like It’s okay, I’m here . Making me want to do things like put my arm around him and pull him close.
    The world fell silent, Thomas’s breathing the loudest sound for miles. Up here, at the top of the tower block, it was mostly always quiet, apart from when the wind grew wild and buffeted against the walls and I could imagine being in the narrow eye of a hurricane.
    Pulling myself up off the floor, I sat on the crappy sofa cushion next to him, not talking, just being there. My fingers grazed a tear in the fabric of the seat, pulled at the threads. It was hard to admit, but I liked just being there, even though I felt like a traitor to myself. I didn’t want to think about why Thomas had come here. I knew I’d messed everything up between us, obliterated every tentative step in our friendship.
    Instead I wondered what Corinne would think if she walked through the door now and saw this, us, sitting here all quiet. Was it weird? Was it weird to want to be quiet with someone, to not want to feel like you had to talk or do anything other than be there? It felt weird because it was Thomas I was feeling like this with. I’d only ever liked boys, but I’d never let what was in my head translate into reality before. I’d never been close to anyone I’d liked, and now here we were—crossing borders, annihilating boundaries.
    Clammy warmth covered my hand. I looked down, my eyes growing wide as I saw Thomas’s hand had covered my own. My fingers stilled in their destruction of the sofa. My chest grew tight. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t look at him. I just turned my hand over so we could lock our fingers together and he could hold it properly. It felt a little bit like forgiveness. And a lot like tendrils of warm gold light were snaking their way up my arm.
    “I’m sorry I fucked up your birthday,” I said after a long while. Too long, really. “I’m sorry I said what I did.” I hated the way my words broke apart the silence. They sounded so awkward, so inadequate.
    My hand was sweaty from holding his, but I didn’t want to pull it away. I would never admit it, but I liked it too much. Far, far too much.
    “Want to make it up to me?”
    He still sounded a little breathless, but I punched him gently in the arm anyway. Dick.
    Now we weren’t holding hands anymore. His fault. But I couldn’t bridge the divide to do it again.
    Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him