Cuddle Application

13 - Even the Sun has Secrets

"Truth is like the sun. You can shut it out for a time, but it ain't going away."
~Elvis Presley

➳♀♁➳

The empty coke cup makes a tsss-tsss noise as I drink out of the straw, pulling at liquid that's no longer in the cup. Oliver pops a fry in his mouth, nonchalant, but I'm not about to take my chances with those devil potatoes after what happened last time.

I shift in my seat at the picnic table, tapping my fingernails on the painted wood.

Oliver still isn't speaking.

I huff and pull at the straw. It makes a sttt-saw noise as I push and pull it in and out of the cap.

"So," I begin slowly. "Who did you say Neck was, again?"

I pull at the strap of my romper, not sure of what to do with my hands.

Oliver grabs a few more fries. "Kid from boarding school. I'd hardly call him a friend. Got in all sorts of trouble."

I try to remember the conversation from before and pick out my questions. "Is he the reason you transferred to Helaci in - what year was it?"

"Beginning of sophomore year," he says, not meeting my eyes during the entire conversation. "So over two years ago."

Neck's face pops into my memory again. The way he smirked at me as Oliver dragged me away. I didn't exactly get warm and fuzzy feelings from the guy.

"Hmm," I murmur, questions popping into my head from all directions. "He seemed like a pretty hard core guy."

Oliver looks at me, leaning back in his seat to study me with his eyes. He blinks. I copy. His demeanor has changed from mysterious and nonchalant to careful and inquiring.

"You know," he starts slowly, "there's quite a few things you don't know about me."

I cock my head. "Obviously. I just realized you existed a few weeks ago."

I spin the coke cup in my hands. The ice knocks against itself inside.

He laughs. "I mean, there's things that no one really knows."

He pushes the carton of fries to the side and puts both elbows on the table, cracking the knuckles of both hands

"Not even your friends?" I ask, eyebrows rising slightly. I'm trying to sound vaguely uninterested, like I don't really care but am just engaging in small talk, but really I want to knock his head against the table until all the memories come out so I can find out exactly what he doesn't want me to.

"I don't really have friends," Oliver replies.

My face contorts. "Of course you do. You're like the star quarterback or something."

He smirks like I'm some sort of joke. I frown. A kid in the distance screams as he's hauled down an incline by a cart that's barely connected to the tracks, and I'm reminded of where we are. The fact that we're sitting in the middle of the carnival rides instead of actually riding them.

"What do you call the people you hang out with, then?" I ask.

He thinks for a moment, scratching his chin. There's a little bit of stubble. "My audience."

My eyebrows shoot up this time, not even taking their time to climb up my forehead. "Audience? Sounds a little conceded, doesn't it? Perhaps a bit full of yourself?"