Hidden Deep Read Online Free

A library volume. Thoreau.
    “Heaven is under our feet as well as over our heads,” Lad said, quoting the author.
    And right here in front of me. Lord help me if the boy didn’t give me a smile so devastatingly beautiful I had to look down before I could think of a coherent response. “So… Walden. Call of the Wild .” I picked up another one. “ A Midsummer Night’s Dream . Shakespeare, huh? If they had fan pods for classic authors, you’d be first in line.”
    I laughed at my own joke.
    Lad did not join me. Instead, his face got deadly serious. He leaned toward me. “Fan pods? You’re not in one, are you?”
    “Me? No. I never had any interest—”
    “Good,” he interrupted, seeming strangely relieved.
    “Why?”
    “Nothing. I just don’t think they’re… a good idea.”
    “O-kay.” I dragged the word out, tilting my head as I waited for an explanation. When it didn’t come, I dropped the topic—it wasn’t my favorite one anyway, in spite of the fact that most of my friends talked of nothing else. I was kind of happy Lad shared my disinterest in celebrities and their rabidly devoted fan pods.
    “So, you obviously read a lot of literature in home school.” I lifted one of the books.
    “Actually those are for fun,” he said then blushed and looked away, as if embarrassed.
    “What? That’s a good thing.”
    He shook his head, still not meeting my eyes. “Not to my parents. They disapprove.”
    “Really? That’s a first. I’ve never heard of parents who don’t want their kids to read.”
    “It’s…” Lad waved his hand in a dismissive gesture, apparently eager to change the subject. “… it’s just not what we do. My father thinks it’s a waste of time.”
    “Wow. That’s so weird. What about your mother?”
    “She’s not as bad as he is, but she has to agree with him. After all, he—”
    Lad checked his speech abruptly, and his eyes widened. After a moment, he continued. “He’s the… the head of the family.”
    “Okay… that sounds pretty old-fashioned, you know.”
    Lad choked on a laugh. “Yes, you could definitely say my parents are ‘old-fashioned.’ Anyway, my mother agrees reading books makes me interested in things I shouldn’t be… interested… in…” He trailed off slowly, his expression turning intense as he stared at me. He whispered, “I can’t believe you’re really here.”
    My stomach did a small flip.
    Lad crawled slowly toward me. My breath caught in my throat as he stopped inches away. He reached out, but he didn’t actually touch me. His palm ran lightly over the side of my head, barely skimming the outer layer of my hair, the heat from his hand radiating to my scalp. He took the end of one straight damp lock and softly rubbed it between his thumb and fingers as if he were fabric shopping and had found a swath of fine silk to be touched and tested.
    Lad wrapped my hair once around his finger and then again, reeling me in. Heart pounding, I studied his face, trying to understand the fascination I saw there and trying to decide if he was about to do what I thought he was about to do.
    Somewhere in my brain an alarm went off. It sounded a lot like my mother’s voice.
    Never want anyone more than he wants you. You can have a man in your life, Ryann, but never need someone. Just let him be icing on the cake.
    I was at that moment in serious danger of violating every word of the manifesto I’d had drilled into me for the past year, since my parents had separated. I’d never felt so much wanting of anything in my whole life. I teetered on the edge. I could sense how good it would feel to close that last inch between us and give myself over to the pull I’d felt toward these woods and my shaky memory of Lad these past ten years. Instead, I popped the pretty bubble.
    “It doesn’t make sense,” I blurted out.
    “What?” he asked softly, drawing back a few inches.
    “If your mom and dad don’t want you to read, how do you do home