Southern Boy Charm | ✓

Chapter 26

When we arrive back at the ranch, it's already night out. The outside light casts a soft yellow glow on the porch, and I can tell that my mom and Kelly have already retired to their rooms. Nicks hops out of the car before opening my door and sweeping me off my seat once again. When we reach the front door, I expect him to lead us inside. But instead, he pauses, turning towards me.

"Is it okay if we stay out here for a little?"

I nod my head, taking a seat on the swing bench. "After all of today you still want extra time with me? Truly, I'm flattered."

"Don't get too big of a head now," he says, taking a seat beside me.

I flash him a smile that he quickly returns. "Too late."

The night is quiet, the only sound being the slight whistle of the wind and the chirping of crickets. The silence is comfortable, and looking into the dark scene in front of me, I feel completely at ease. I sneak a peek at Nick, his strong, built cheekbones, his defined jaw, the bump on the bridge of his nose from a past break, and realize that him and the night sky in front of me share something in common: they both make me calm. Nick's voice pierces through the stillness.

"Do you ever notice how bright the moon is?"

His head tilts back towards the sky. Above us, an iridescent full moon sits low in the sky, big and round. It's pearly surface shimmers, and my eyes can't help but be drawn towards it. It is simple, yet so captivating that it steals my breath.

"The craziest part is," he continues, "it doesn't even glow on its own. The sun, millions of miles away, is so bright that it can make an ordinary piece of rock the brightest object in the sky."

I nod my head, not needing to speak. Nick sometimes is like this; he goes from a regular teenage boy to an awestruck philosopher. But whenever this happens, I always know that he has something important on his mind. So, I wait.

After a while, he speaks again. "Mostly I think about how there is a whole other side of the moon that we never get to see; a side that the sun keeps hidden from the world. Sometimes at night, I squint and try to see something, anything on that side, but, nothing."

I can't help but smile. "Don't get too hard on yourself. It's physically impossible to do." There's nothing more like Nick than to feel bad about something completely out of his control.

He tears his eyes from the sky, and they land on mine. "I know, but don't you think that's it's a shame to know that there is a whole part of the moon that it doesn't get the chance to show, and to not even try to find out?"

He sighs. "Sometimes, I feel like that's me. Like all my light and happiness in my life comes from everyone else around me. Like I'm incapable of being something on my own. And even with everyone around me, I feel like there's a part of me that I can't share."

I grow stern. "One, you are one hundred percent amazing on your own. Don't ever sell yourself short. And two, you can always tell me anything." I lock eyes with him. I need him to know just how much I mean it, and just how much I care for him. "Always."

He avoids my gaze. "Trust me, if I did, you'd be running for the hills."

"Hey," I say, capturing his cheek with my hand and lifting his face towards mine. "I'm not running again. Not now. Not ever."

In that moment, I understand him. He just lost his dad, and instead of expressing all his emotions, he bottles them up and shoves them deep down inside because he's afraid. He's afraid of worrying the people around him, but mostly, he's afraid of facing them himself. I press my forehead to his.

"What if I'm never going to be the same again?" he whispers, his voice pained. I can practically feel my heart break for him.

"I don't think that we can ever be the same after we lose someone we love. But you'll be okay. Different, but okay."

"But what if I don't want different?"

He looks at me so intently, so full of loss and sadness that I wish I know what to tell him to make everything better, but I don't.

"I don't know," I say. "But I think that we're all going through the struggle of wanting to change the nature of life. But if we accept that nothing can stay the same forever, it may not hurt as much."

He strokes at my cheek. "I can't wait for the day when it stops hurting."

Before I can respond, he leans in, kissing me softly, but passionate enough to let me know just how much he is hurting. I want so badly to make him feel better, to make everything alright, but I can't.

So instead, I do the only thing I can, and kiss him back.