Page:Jay Little - Maybe—Tomorrow.pdf/91

 "Well … we are."

It was that simple. With three words their friendship was sealed. At last Blake wanted him.

To be lonely is one thing, to be wanted is another. There is no loneliness so acute as that of a boy upon a trap, facing many eyes; but to be wanted is to be free, free from eyes and tongues that watch and question and condemn. Feeling himself now thus wanted, Gaylord relaxed, and after a moment he stretched his legs and breathed deeply. An approaching glaring light made him blink and squint and finally shut his eyes altogether. Yet the very hurt of the glare pleased him, and he embraced it, leaving a hand on his knee, opening his eyes again, drinking the beauty around him. His glance swung to Blake. Something like a laugh leaped into his eyes.

"Isn't this a beautiful night, Bob?" he said.

"Yeah," Blake grinned. "It's beautiful all right."

"I think it is."

"It's been awful dry and hot, but it's cool tonight. The air feels good."

"It does to me too."

"Sure hot in that damn schoolhouse today." Blake spoke in an easy manner, and Gaylord's courage quickened like a young fire when fuel is laid freshly on. After a moment, with a slight gesture, he touched the other's arm.

"I'm glad you asked me to come with you … I haven't been out with anyone for a long time. I used to go out, but lately I just stay home and read."

"Can't read your life away."

"I know it … but there's not very many I like to be around. It's not that I think I'm better or anything like that … it's just something I can't explain."

"I understand."

"I'm glad Bob … you don't think I'm conceited do you? I know some think I am."

"Hell no …"

"I'll never forget what you did for me this morning."

"Forget it."

"I can't … I keep remembering."