In a Warm Room

It's Too Heavy

Enver Shey was shifting her gaze onto the top line of the ninety-sixth page of her latest novel when she felt the familiar stare on the back of her head. She lifted her eyes just long enough to catch those of Everest Miller.

He smiled quickly, wanting her to see that he wasn't like his idiotic friends before he lost her attention. She knew this, of course, and so did everyone else.

Everest was as much of a sweetheart as Enver was an enigma.

The two of them were the best of their categories, but never focused on themselves when it came to it.

For the third time that week, Enver didn't look away after catching his ogling. Instead, she stared back curiously, just as she had each day since Monday's lunch.

She watched calmly as Everest got up in the middle of his conversation with Marcus Kale and began to walk her way. She made no move to stop him, nor to encourage him. She showed nothing of how she felt about the action, and simply let it play out.

As he neared the table in the far corner where she sat alone everyday, he felt gleeful. Her eyes were on him, her book was down—closed! She closed it! He walked with a newfound confidence, never breaking their eye contact.

This was how it always went. He was always the one to approach her, never the other way around, and neither of them minded the routine. He loved that he could call it a routine. Each day, lunch time, just after she made eye contact with him.

He plopped down in the seat beside her and boldly tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. God, he loved her hair. He loved her face more, though, and therefore needed to make sure she wasn't trying to hide behind her curtain of beautiful, long locks.

He left his hand to linger on her cheek, and she didn't stop him. "How are you, my love?"

She stared at him for a long moment, trying her best not to lean into his inviting touch. "How long are we going to do this?" Her voice was a whisper, but it still made Everest's heart swell.

"Do what?"

He knew, but he wish he didn't.

She knew that he knew. She knew a lot more than he thought.

"Everest, we can't be together," she said slowly, softly.

"You say it—your lips shape the words, and I hear them leave your mouth, yet still, I only want you more each time I hear your beautiful voice."

"Everest," she began.

"Enver."

He was quiet, too, now. He knew that she was about to turn him away once again.

"Everest we can't-"

"We can."

"We can't."

He didn't get frustrated; he was patient, and careful, and Enver loved it. He didn't understand, but he wanted to, and she was already getting addicted to being cared for.

"Enver, help me comprehend your words. You don't mean the things you say, but you always have meaning, therefore you must mean something by each thing you say. Help me to decipher your code; teach me your language. I want to know you, and be with you, and help you-"

"I don't need help," she interrupted. "The fact that you won't listen to me is the only thing keeping you from understanding. I don't need your help, nor anyone's help."

"I need help," he blurted. "I need help, and Marcus needs help. Zane, and Trevor, and Melissa—they need help. We all need help, Enver, and I want to be the one to help you."

He glanced briefly at her book, sitting on the table, replacing the space that should be taken up with a tray of food.

"Well, perhaps I prefer to help myself."

"It's too heavy," he complained randomly.

Enver bristled at his words, almost glaring at him as she spoke gruffly, "What?"

"My hand—it's too heavy. Would you hold it for me?"

Damn you, Everest Miller.

She couldn't help but mentally chide both Everest and herself for the tiny smile that twitched at the corner of her lips without her permission.

Without waiting for her response, Everest gently—very gently, as though she were to break at any sudden movements—picked up her ice cold, much smaller hand.

She didn't pull away, but flinched as the warmth enclosed her fingers. He smiled brightly at her, sliding himself the slightest bit closer.

"It's not that heavy," she grumbled to herself.

He shocked the both of them mere moments later by leaning in and stealing a soft, quick kiss on her cheek. "Thank you, my love, you make my life so much better."

"By holding your hand?" She didn't understand.

"By holding my hand."