Evan pulls his pants up, his shirt falling down in the process.
When he turns, his face is red, sweat beading on his forehead and top lip. I can see him trying to escape, now that the moment’s over, but I won’t let him. I pull him in by the neck and kiss him.
“That was amazing.” I say.
He smiles but he won’t look at me.
I give him a lazy smile and flinch when he snaps the condom off my twitching cock before tucking my dick back in mypants for me.
“Thank you.”
He laughs, shaking his head, tying a knot in the condom before tossing it into the trees.
“You shouldn’t do that.”
“Do you have a trash can on you?”
I shake my head. I can feel him watching me. Feel the curiosity and confusion coming from him.
“We should go, before someone comes out here an catches us.”
“I thought it was safe here?”
“It is, but you were so loud, I wouldn’t be surprised if people in Brooklyn heard.”
“Iwas loud?”
“Fuck you.” He laughs.
I didn’t think it was possible to beusin this situation. I just fucked my best friend, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world. He’s still him and I’m still me. We’re stillus.
When he gets back in the car, Evan rests his head against the headrest. I put a playlist on my phone.
He registers what’s playing—Demolition Loversby My Chemical Romance.
“Not this emo shit.” He laughs, shaking his head.
“Do you wanna choose?”
I toss my phone into his lap, but he just leaves it there, letting the song play.
12
EVAN
As I let myself into the house after Nate drops me off, I try to tell myself it was just like the other times. Nate just wanted my ass like those guys I meet online. But I can’t even fool myself. It wasn’t like the other times. And Nate wanted more than a quick fuck. When I tried to take him to that place, he stopped the car and told me he didn’t wanna fuck me on the backseat.
It was probably still the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. Now, this time, when he leaves, it’s gonna suck even worse. I’m gonna hate him even more.
When I getup the next morning, Ma’s at the counter in her work clothes, spreading peanut butter on bread.
“You were out late last night,” she says.
I open the fridge, get the OJ out and swig it from the carton.
“I heard you come home around three. What were you doing out that late?”
There’s a hint of worry in her voice and I don’t wanna be the cause of that.
