Chapter 80

He wrote about guys! Why had nobody told me that Walt freaking Whitman had been gay?

I was still immersed in the words when Axel returned.

“What ‘cha doin’?” he asked as he pulled off his boots and peeled off the outerwear.

I held up the book for him to see.

“You like poetry?”

I shook my head.

“Then what are you reading that’s got you all captivated?”

“Mix’d tussled hay of head, beard, brawn, it shall be you! Trickling sap of maple, fibre of manly wheat, it shall be you!” I read aloud, probably butchering the great poet’s words.

“Ah. You found that, did you?”

I jerked when his voice came from right next to me and looked up at him. “I didn’t hear you.”

“I noticed.” He shot me his crooked smile before walking over to the fridge, where he grabbed a bottle of water and chugged it down. “You want something to drink? I’ve got water, pop, beer. Coffee.”

“Got any hot chocolate?”

He chuckled. “Sure I do.”