Leo was not quite seventeen when he first met Lyle last year. I respected the hell out of the nonbinary hottie in question, who’d just turned twenty at the time, for stepping back. Now, Leo was about to turn eighteen and there was a sense of the inevitable between those two that was incredibly endearing.
Oz sent me a wink, and I had to stifle a laugh. God, he was fun. Despite my mother’s watchful eye, I played along. “That cute cowhand won’t know what hit ’em.”
I waved as he took off. Then I shut down the bay and made my way back into the office so I could walk Mom out to her car. She kept her thoughts to herself, and I was grateful. I didn’t have the energy to argue with her tonight.
As I got into my truck, the notification for the Lost Boys group chat went off.
Ozzie:Stopped by the tire shop today, and look who I found.
I blushed when an image popped up a few seconds later. He’d snapped a pic of me carrying his tire one-handed, my sweaty, bare chest clearly the focus.
My phone started pinging left and right with catcalls and GIFs raining dollar bills.
Me:My mother already thinks y’all are trying to lure me into your wretched lifestyles.
Ozzie:Then it’s working.
After that, the thread was flooded with toaster ovens, which I did not get at all. It didn’t matter—the frustration and loneliness of the day were gone in an instant.
My smile returned, and on a whim, I ran back into the office to grab something for Oz. Maybe I’d stop by the bar after school tomorrow.
CHAPTER2
ozzie
Jesus. Fucking. Christ. I knew Walker was a hot slice of a man, but I nearly swallowed my tongue when he walked out to my car last night. I couldn’t believe I’d actually debated changing the tire myself. I was lucky I hadn’t ruined the wheel by driving to the tire shop, but it’d’ve been worth it even if I had.
Every queer person I knew had had a tragic straight crush at some point in their lives, and for the last year, Augustus Walker Junior had been mine. I respected his sexuality, of course, but damn. Day-um.
This all started when I took him shopping for a new wardrobe. He’d been hired to teach at the local high school and needed some serious assistance in the clothing department. My cousin Hendrix had been touring God knew where with his punk band at the time, but he’d bankrolled the entire venture, and he’d agreed that an unfortunate incident involving Walker’s closet and a few large garbage bags was appropriate. As a result, we also ended up replacing the majority of Walker’s casual clothes.
I’d been happy to help, but then I was confronted with Walker’s country-fried hotness the first time he took off his shirt. We’d played baseball together in high school, but I didn’t remember him looking likethat. I’d had to fan myself every time he’d tried on something new, because he was tight as hell.
Walker had been hiding his body under ill-fitting dad jeans, baggy cargo shorts, and ratty T-shirts. To replace them, I’d picked out several pairs of fitted jeans and shorts with five-inch inseams to show off his little ass and short, muscular legs.
I won’t even speak of the tighty whities, which I’d swapped out with the tiniest, most buttery-soft boxer briefs. They’d made helping him out in the changing rooms a hell of a lot more fun.
Not that I’d expected anything to happen—I was just appreciating a sweet, sexy guy who happened to be a big fat goose egg on the Kinsey scale.
Le sighand all that.
Last night, though? The way his flush traveled from his grease-streaked chest to his pretty cheeks in response to the slightest bit of flirting? Oof, that had my brain going all sorts of places it had no business going. Especially when he played along after I baited his mother with my comment about Leo.
It was almost like he was flirting back.
I shouldn’t read too much into it, though. He’d gone red when I’d complimented his looks during our shopping spree, and I’d chalked it up to his endearing modesty.
He liked to joke that he was some hick country boy—and he was—but he was also a mathematician and a world-class sweetheart. After last night, there was no denying the vulnerability he’d carefully hidden under sunny smiles.
It was a sobering reminder that he had survived the horrific car accident that killed his twin sister, Annalee. The crash happened the summer after we’d all graduated, and I’d already gone to Chicago, so I didn’t witness its full impact on him. After moving back and getting reacquainted with him, though, I noticed the layers a lot of people missed.
If I had to guess, his mother never concerned herself with any of his layers. According to Joel, Walker’s dad was just as much of an asshole. No parent should ever have to bury their child, but you’d think they’d cling to their surviving child, not pick him apart and make him feel like shit.
When I watched his mother belittle him, a bunch of pieces started falling into place. For instance, I’d often gotten the sense that Walker was lonely, but I’d chalked that up to missing his sister. He’d also lost out on a baseball scholarship because the accident fucked up his knee, and I figured he missed playing with a team. Me and the Lost Boys always did our best to make him feel welcome, but I never could shake the impression that he wasn’t quite whole.
After last night, I wondered if he’d ever truly had a sense of belonging. I couldn’t help but feel that his parents were disappointed he’d been the one who lived, a thought that bothered me long after I got home.
“Earth to Oz.” Joel, my business partner and best friend, tapped the middle of my forehead. “Man, what’s got you all distracted?”
