Trust the Focus Read Online Free PDF Page B

different.”
    I peeked over his arm as he sketched the clouds above the mountain—so vivid and fluffy I thought they moved across the page with the slight breeze.
    He scooted closer so that his knee brushed my leg. The tension seeped out of his muscles and a contented sigh slipped from his lips as he continued to sketch.
    Like always, I allowed the closeness, the touch. Because Landry thrived on it. In fact, he needed it—touch from those he loved and trusted. Because he hadn’t had it for the first twelve years of his life.
    He’d been left at a hospital as a baby under the state’s Safe Haven law. He’d been premature, jaundiced, and malnourished. So by the time he’d been released from the hospital, he’d been hard to place in a foster home because of his lingering health issues. So he spent most of his childhood in a group home for boys.
    He was placed in a foster home right before junior high and later adopted by his parents. At that point he was a little wild, a little unruly, and out of control.
    His parents hugged him and were physically affectionate, but they couldn’t seem to ground him, to tether his brain to his body in the way he needed.
    And then he met me. I was a quiet sixth grader and he was an unfocused prepubescent. Even then, Landry couldn’t hide who he was—he spoke a little too loud, his hips cocked a little too much, his eyes lingered on other boys a little too long.
    We were on the playground at school and some of the kids were giving him a hard time. They weren’t quite sure yet what was so different about Landry, but it was clear he wasn’t like them. I didn’t know either. I thought I liked girls, but something about Landry drew me to him. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. And when his pale skin flushed red, those eyes flashed sparks, and he bobbed on his toes, I knew the skinny guy was going to blow his top and get into something he would regret.
    My father was a physically affectionate guy, so I reacted on instinct and grabbed Landry’s hair, pressing our foreheads together while I clamped my other hand where his neck met his shoulder. I stared into his eyes and willed his breath to match mine.
    He gripped my wrist and locked onto my stare. I didn’t say anything, but kept myself present in order to bring him back from the brink, anchor him to the ground before he took flight. The taunts from the kids faded into the background until the words were white noise, and the only sounds were our breaths.
    The anger ebbed from his eyes. He tugged against my grip and I let go of his hair and pulled back my head.
    He held my gaze, a whole story flashing behind the depths of his baby blues.
    I jerked my head toward the door to the school and jingled some change in my pocket. “I heard they stocked the vending machine. Wanna get some candy?”
    I’ll never forget the smile he flashed me then. The first smile Landry ever gave me. The smile that tingled down my spine and settled in my gut and spread throughout my body like a drug. A drug that pumped hot and thick into my veins, proving I was different in the same way Landry was. Even though I didn’t realize it at the time.
    And after that first snack of Twizzlers and Butterfingers, we were inseparable.
    Now I was the only one who could bring Landry back from the brink. When his nerves sent his mind into a tailspin or his anger lit a fire in his gut, I’d grab his hair and slam our foreheads together, forcing him to use me as his anchor.
    And he always stood close to me, in my personal space, closer than I allowed anyone else. But I let him, playing the part of good friend—giving him what he needed. Even the last couple of years, Landry still wanted the touch whenever we were together. I never told him how much I craved that touch just as much as he did.
    The scratch of Landry’s pencil took me out of my thoughts and I glanced at my watch, noting a half hour had passed. I rose and walked over to the canister. I pulled off the lid and