First Flight by Connor Wright Read Free Book Online

If he couldn’t find that in the sky, then why had he wanted it in the first place? Nonsense, as most dreams were. He closed his eyes and drifted off once again.

Chapter Seven
     
    C HRIS was putting the last of the dinner dishes in the dishwasher when Jesse came in. “Hello.”
    “Hey.” Jesse held up the bag he carried. “I, uh, brought you something.”
    “A gift? For me?” Uncertainty nibbled at the edge of his delight, and he didn’t smile.
    “Yeah,” he said, a corner of his mouth turning up at the seriousness on Chris’s face.
    “Thank you.” Chris closed the dishwasher, washed and dried his hands, then gave Jesse an expectant look.
    “Here you go,” Jesse said, handing him the bag.
    “Eggs!” The carton was decidedly smaller than the egg cartons he was used to seeing. Ah, the picture on the top explained it all. “Quail eggs. Thank you.”
    “No problem.” Jesse waved a hand and headed out of the kitchen.
    Something went warm inside him and the little voice whispered Maybe? Try again. “Jesse?”
    Jesse glanced over his shoulder, then turned back at the expression on Chris’s face. “What?”
    Chris held the carton out. “Would you stay? Share these? I will cook them.”
    He hadn’t meant the eggs to be anything more than a treat, something to maybe take Chris’s mind off of the morning’s unpleasantness, but he hadn’t thought about how Chris might have interpreted the offering.
    Or had he? You are important . I chose you. Chris’s words had been chasing themselves through his head all day, and now he absolutely had to think about it. Jesse took a deep breath and nodded. “Only cook a couple for me, okay? ’Cause I’m not sure if I’ll like them or not.”
    “Okay.” Chris’s smile was bright, and Jesse wondered briefly why he hadn’t tried to make him smile more often before now. Then they got busy with a pot and water and salt and wondering if quail eggs cooked more quickly because they were smaller.
    “Wow, these things are tough to peel,” Jesse said, frowning at the tiny egg. Then he shrugged and sliced off the end of it. “Oh, I see, the lining of the shell is really thick.”
    “That is good to know,” Chris said, retrieving another paring knife. He gingerly worked the point of it into the shell and pried the top off, revealing the precious contents. “Ah!”
    Jesse watched as Chris tilted his head back, his own eggs forgotten as he stared at the line of his throat, as he followed it down into the collar of the shirt Chris was wearing. He wanted , suddenly, wanted more viscerally than he had before, wanted to follow that line all the way down, wanted to touch and taste and— “Huh?”
    “They’re delicious,” Chris said, holding up the empty shell. “Try it.”
    The eggs! Right. “Oh, great! Yeah, uh, hang on.” He fought with the tough membrane, managing to get the egg out in almost one piece. Jesse popped the little bite into his mouth and chewed. It tasted like any other hard-boiled egg he’d ever eaten, which was both a relief and a mild disappointment. He nodded, humming appreciatively. “Those are good.”
     
     
    A WEEK and a half later, Jesse’s curiosity got the better of him. “Chris?”
    “Yes?”
    “Uh, have you changed your mind?”
    Chris glanced at him, then went back to watching the city go by. “Changed my mind about what?”
    “About me. You said, uh, that I was important, and that you, um, chose me. But you still make me breakfast and lunch, only you don’t give me stuff, anymore. Or did you just run out?” Jesse smiled a little, but it faded into concentration as he slowed to make a turn.
    Chris looked over at him again. “I thought you did not— You said you did not collect any of the things I gave you.”
    “Yeah, that’s true,” Jesse said, as he turned into a parking lot. “But I didn’t mean to make you think that I, uh, hated ’em or something. And I didn’t throw ’em away.” He found a parking place and pulled