Won't Let Go by Avery Olive Read Free Book Online Page A

through? “No stash. It’s—It’s something I can just...do.”
    I raise an eyebrow. “Show me?”
    There’s a small quirk of a smile, barely visible. “What’s your favorite color?”
    Raising my finger to my chin, I think. He’s already wearing blue. That’d be my top choice. I’ve never been much of a girly-girl, covering myself from head to toe in pinks and purples, pastels or otherwise. But hey, why not have some fun. “Pink,” I say.
    Oakley closes his eyes, hiding their beautiful blue. His features shift, a crease along his forehead becomes prominent, like he’s concentrating really hard. The color from his shirt drains like a tipped over glass emptying, until slowly, it’s righted. And the liquid—or in this case color—fills back up until his shirt, no longer blue, is pink. It’s so bright I want to shield my eyes or look away because it might burn my retinas.
    A giggle escapes my lips. Quickly, I cover my mouth with my hand. “That is so cool. Do it again?” I ask.
    “Okay, what do you want now?”
    I don’t know why, but just in that moment I want to know what he’d look like totally dressed to the nines. I want a shirt, a tie, a jacket, Hell, maybe even a cummerbund but that’s not what I say. That’s taking it a little far. Instead I say, “Green.” That’s my second favorite color.
    His eyes fall closed again. “Okay, here we go.” His lips tug at the corners into a hint of a grin.
    This time, the transition is quicker. Within seconds the pink shirt fades to gray then is replaced with green. I swear if I were standing right next to him, my eyes level with the shirt, they’d be the same color, just like the blades of grass in the backyard.
    “I like green on you. How’d you learn to do that?” I ask, curiosity running through my veins.
    He shrugs. “I don’t know. I just learned it somehow. I close my eyes, think about what I want and it happens.” His voice is soft, even softer than this morning.
    I want to keep playing, learn more about him—or what he knows about himself—but I remember I wanted him here for a reason.
    That I had to tell him something.
    I take a few steps towards my bed and as I get closer to it, and to Oakley, the temperature in the room drops a few degrees. He brings with him such cold air, it pricks my arms with goose-bumps, and I’m sure, if I were any closer to him, I’d be able to see my breath.
    Once back at my bed and away from Oakley, the space warms up slightly, but that doesn’t stop me from crawling under the covers.
    “Maybe I should go?” Oakley looks to the closet door, then finds my eyes.
    “No, no, I’m just getting comfortable,” I say. I gather the covers around me, pulling them close and prop my head up with pillows. “Why don’t you sit down?”
    He scans the room. His eyes fall on me and maybe the leftover space on the bed, then however, they notice the chair at my desk. His steps are quiet, a whisper of tip-taps. When he reaches the chair, he sits down, and the leather squishes and scrunches. Weird . Sometimes it’s as though he walks on air, making not a single peep. Other times, I forget he’s a ghost. His actions are so human-like, the tip-tap of his feet, the ability to open doors. And now how his body forms to the chair, it’s as though he’s really sitting in it.
    I have to adjust my position to get a better view of him, and as I do, part of me wants to know where he was all day, wants to interrogate him. I wonder if he’s annoyed I’m the person forced to help him. If that’s why he’d been gone all day. Instead, I just come straight out with it, what I’d been waiting all day to tell him. “So I was thinking,” I pause.
    Oakley instantly shifts forward. He rests his elbows on his knees, head in his hands. Through the dim lighting of the room, he looks pretty eager to hear what I have to say, which makes me that much more nervous to say it.
    My heart speeds up a beat or two. I clear my throat and start