“This is scrap metal. You can make art with it,” he said loudly. The sudden break in the silence seemed to startle most of the room.

I saw several people look at each other and start to whisper. I felt my face start to burn. If they teased him, I’d lose my shit.

“I’m going to make a tree,” Flynn said flatly. The art professor hurried to turn on the projector that was aimed at the metal Flynn was twisting and forming with his hands and asked a student to dim the lights.

“Notice the techniques Mr. Hendrick is using. He has perfected the use of assembling. He takes materials and joins them together to create a sculpture. Assembling is a complicated and additive process. It is precise and detailed,” the professor droned on as Flynn’s fingers moved quickly and with a confidence he hadn’t possessed before.

“Do you know him?” Kara whispered. I was mesmerized as I watched Flynn work. I held my breath as he pulled out a soldering iron and started melding the pieces together.

“Yeah,” I answered shortly. It had been on the tip of my tongue to deny our relationship. Old habits die hard, I supposed. But I was proud to know Flynn. I wasn’t ashamed to admit it.

“I figured. We’d been sitting her for fifteen minutes waiting for him to say something. He freaked out on the professor when he asked him a question. But then you came in and he was honkey dory,” Kara observed.

I didn’t respond to that. I didn’t know her well enough to share anything.

“He’s different isn’t he? I have a cousin with autism. He sort of acts like that. My cousin is a whiz at math. He can solve these crazy complicated problems in his head. Without paper or a calculator or anything. It’s nuts.”

She nodded her head toward Flynn as he twisted and molded the metal. I could see the tree it was slowly becoming. Everyone in the room was as enraptured by his talent as I was. They had forgotten about his strange start.

His art erased that.

“He reminds me of my cousin. I mean not as severe or anything. But the mannerisms and stuff. He’s pretty amazing though. Look at that tree. I could never do that.”

And just like that, this strange girl with her weirdly spiky hair, summarized and accepted the parts of Flynn it had taken me seven years to be okay with. She made me feel small and unbelievably stupid.

Because she was right. Flynn was pretty amazing.

“He’s my boyfriend,” I found myself saying. I was admitting it. Owning it. Just like Flynn was starting to own me.

“Cool,” Kara said, smiling. And I knew she meant it.

“Yeah, it is,” I smiled in return before turning back to Flynn. He had finished the tree and placed it on the table. There was a collective murmur of appreciation. The professor picked it up.

“This is fantastic! Look at the details. Look at the complexity!” he was saying. I watched Flynn, who didn’t seem to be hearing the enthusiastic praise.

He lifted his head and swept his dark hair out of his face. His eyes flitted around the room until he saw me.

And he grinned. His heart in his eyes.

He was more than amazing.

He was everything.

20

-Ellie-

“Where are you going? Can I come?” Flynn asked me. I had just gotten out of the shower and was getting ready. He had gotten dressed while I was in the bathroom and was standing in the doorway wearing his slightly wrinkled khakis and button down shirt.

I had spent the night with Flynn. There had been no sex involved. We had simply slept together in the same bed.

Flynn had held my hand all night and that had felt better than any sex.

And now I was rushing to get ready so I could head into town to Mr. Cox’s office.

“I told you, Flynn. It’s just a review hearing. I shouldn’t be more than an hour.” I started to brush out my hair. It had gotten really long. It was now down past the middle of my back. I had never allowed it reach this length before. Taking care of my appearance had never ranked very high on my list of priorities.

But now, I wanted to look nice. I wanted to look pretty. Because it made me happy to feel good about myself.

Flynn fiddled with the buttons on his sleeves. He was chewing on his bottom lip and I wondered what I had done to distress him.

“What is it, Flynn?” I asked. I was learning that being direct was the best approach to handling Flynn. Sometimes he’d answer me straight away. Other times he’d get angry and there would be some flipping out involved.

But either way it usually gave me the answers I needed.

“I just want to go with you. I don’t like it when you leave,” he said. Even though his tone was emotionless as ever, it was his eyes that told me everything. And his eyes were unhappy.

I walked across the room and kissed him softly. I wanted to run my fingers through his hair but there were still times when touching him too much was not okay. He would still tense up and pull away and I struggled with an irrational sense of rejection because of it.

While I accepted him and cared about him for who he was, it didn’t change the difficulties that were involved with being with someone like Flynn. And I was sure Flynn faced his own difficulties by being with me.

We were a messed up, complicated pair. But somehow, together, we worked.

“I don’t like leaving you either. How about you meet me at Ma’s Diner at noon. We can get lunch and then you can come with me over to campus for my meeting,” I suggested, pulling back before he was able to.

Flynn released his bottom lip but still wouldn’t look directly at me. “You’re going to apply for college?” he asked, his face brightening a little.