Chapter 2: Lemon Meringue Pie

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"Should I..." Robin fumbled with the handle to the classroom door under the mountain of books. "I'll open this."

Still clasping the wrapper from the lollipop Tyler gave him, Robin instinctually shoved the wrinkly paper in his pocket to get a free hand.

The move made the book tower sway and the next moment, it tumbled to the floor, bookmarks and loose pages scattering everywhere. "Sorry," Robin muttered, his cheeks burning red as students threw pitying looks while he tried in vain to gather everything.

"It's alright, Robby," Tyler assured him, using his crutches to catch some of the stray papers that were threatening to disappear forever beneath hurried feet. Perhaps he was grateful people were looking at Robin instead of him.

"I'll deal with this, just hold on for a moment." Robin felt increasingly flustered as he couldn't gather everything fast enough. He felt like he was making a really bad impression on Tyler, and for some reason, he very much wanted to make a good impression.

"I can help," Tyler assured him. A metallic clank of crutches falling to the floor followed and the next moment, one and a half jeans-clad leg sat next to Robin, stacking papers and straightening folded pages.

"You don't have to," Robin protested, worried he'd made Tyler go through the trouble of descending to the floor.

"I want to." Tyler's voice was firm and kind. He picked up a run-away pen—monogrammed with Robin's name—and handed it to him. Their hands met on opposite ends of the handle. "Just let me help you." His gaze fell to the swirly letter on the pen shaft. "Robin Erie."

His name sounded different when said by Tyler. A cadence he didn't recognize. The name didn't sound like a burden but rather a freeing breeze.

"People help me all the time these days." Tyler looked down, busying himself with unorganized papers. "It's nice for me able to help for once as well. You can help me and I can help you."

A half-smile hid under unruly curls. It made Robin's breathing regulate and the flustered feeling started to wash away. He let Tyler help him without another word of protest.

Soon every book and paper was gathered. Robin rose from the floor, picked the books up, and put them on a nearby bench. He reached a hand toward Tyler. "Thank you for helping," he said. "Do you need... help to get up?"

Tyler's hand landed in his. It gripped tightly. It felt... nice. Warm. Safe even. Only his mother had held his hand before. But that embrace had not saved Robin from anything. Instead, it had isolated him like a baby bird stuck in the nest, never allowed learn to fly on his own.

Tyler grunted a bit as he tried to rise on one leg, with Robin's assistance. The attempt was wobbly and a bit precarious but in a communal effort, they succeeded. Suddenly, Tyler stood face to face with Robin. Green eyes peered into his from only a few inches away. The busy hallway around them seemed to disappear.

Robin couldn't deny the influence Tyler's proximity had on him. A scent of vanilla and lemon reached his nostrils, reminiscent of a lemon meringue pie. Why did Tyler smell so wondrously?

Robin swallowed and looked down. His mother's words about bad influences rang in his ears. "Let me help you to the bench," he said.

Afraid of what he'd felt, Robin stepped away, once he'd helped Tyler sit down. He grabbed Tyler's crutches from where they leaned against the wall. "Here." He handed the metal implements to Ty, turning his eyes and nose away from the source of distraction. "We should get to class."

Quickly, Robin picked up the books from the bench. With his back turned, he waited for Tyler to stand up before he continued toward the classroom. This time, Robin managed to open the door without any embarrassing incidents. He counted that as a win. As Tyler passed by a wave of heat—and a hint of lemony vanilla—reached Robin. For a moment, he felt dizzy.

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