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Back The Infinite Noise Save as PDF
Chapters (70)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. 53
  57. 54
  58. 55
  59. 56
  60. 57
  61. 58
  62. 59
  63. 60
  64. 61
  65. 62
  66. 63
  67. 64
  68. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  69. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  70. Newsletter Sign-up

I should be completely humiliated by this ridiculous display of machismo but I’m, of course, charmed. Caleb gives another full belly laugh at my attempt to tease him and reaches up to grab my torso, bringing me back to my feet like I’m a sack of potatoes.

I’ve dropped the football at some point and wind my arms around his neck as he wraps his arms tighter around me. My feet are barely on the ground, but I don’t care. I let him hold me up and we kiss until it’s darkness all around us.

45

CALEB

“Um … hello?”

The large, garage-like metal door slides shut behind me, echoing through the musty space. It smells like paint and turpentine and a swirl of frustration-inspiration. Like all the people who have made art here—tried to make art—have left some of their feelings behind, just waiting to be soaked up by someone like me.

“Caleb!”

I whip around at the sudden, sharp sound of Chloe’s voice to see her smiling at me from another doorway hidden in the far corner of the room. As always, her overalls are covered in paint, her hair a mess, and her feelings distant and strange.

“Sorry.” She winces. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s all right,” I breathe. “I just didn’t feel you come in.”

“Really?” she asks as she walks toward me. “I’m the only one here right now.”

“Yeah.” I rub the back of my neck as my eyes track her movement around the room, picking up paints and cloths and brushes and going through what is clearly a nightly routine. “It’s … I don’t know, your feelings aren’t as loud as some other people’s, I guess. At least, not always.”

“Hm.” Her face scrunches up in a way that tells me she’s reaching out for my thoughts. There’s a bubble of uncertainty within her, shaking with fear.

“No, I don’t want you to think—” I rush to explain. “It’s not like you don’t feel things. You feel, like, a lot of things,” I tell her truthfully. “But I think sometimes…”

“Sometimes I’m too in my head to make the feelings big?” she finishes.

“Yeah.” I nod. “Something like that.”

We smile tentatively at each other and the bubble stops shaking, settling warm and happy in my chest.

“I’m really glad I met you, Caleb,” she says. “It’s so nice having someone to talk to about this.”

“Yeah, I was just thinking the same thing.”

“I know.” She smirks.

It is nice to talk to Chloe. To know that she understands, at least to a point, what it’s like to have your mind and body not be your own. I don’t have to censor myself around her—don’t have to worry about sounding dumb or saying the wrong thing—because she knows everything I’m thinking anyway.