“What are you working on, honey?” Mom pulled a chair up next to me at the breakfast bar. Peeking over my shoulder, she took stock of the sketch on the pad before making a sound of appreciation. “That’s beautiful. What’s it for?” she asked as she sat down, blowing over the rim of her mug of coffee.
After carefully erasing a wayward line, I blew a gentle breath across the paper. She wasright. It was beautiful. “It’s for my shop class. Just an idea I had for my final, but I have to run it past my partner first.”
She smiled. “That sounds like fun.” Her morning cheerfulness was filled with the hopeful optimism that only moms had. “Who are you working with?”
I wish that the sigh I’d let out would have alleviated my frustrations where my partner was concerned. But that certainlywasn’t going to happen. In fact, over the course of the last three weeks of school, I’d only become more and more annoyed with him.
“I’m paired up with this kid Ryan,” I explained as I fixed myself a bowl of cereal.
“You don’t sound very happy about that,” Mom mused, sipping on her coffee.
Keeping my mouth occupied with chewing my Shredded Wheat helped stop the slew of curses I’d wanted tosay from coming out. There was so much I wanted to tell her. Because at the root of it all was my confusion over how fucking sexy I found him.
Figuring that wasn’t a conversation I was ready to have just yet, I opted for the far more palatable response of, “He’s just not sure what direction he wants to go with the project. That’s all.”
“Well, all you have to do is show him this design and I’msure he’ll go your way.”
Now, if only I could knowthatfor sure, I’d be much more at ease around him.
“Thanks, Mom.”
She kissed the top of my head and made her way out to the dock where Dad was fishing. As I watched them from where I was sitting, I couldn’t help but wonder if they’d had the same crisis of identity when they were younger that I was going through now.
Trying my best not tolet my head get the best of me, I busied myself in my shop for the afternoon. That was the only place I could find the solace I so desperately needed. It was an odd talent to have, but my dad’s sometimes-hobby became my lifelong passion and before I could ride a bike, I knew how to operate a welding torch.
When I pulled the cover off my current project, I was pretty impressed by what I had accomplishedso far. The first dove was complete and even though it needed to be cleaned up a little, I knew Mom would love it. And Dad, well, if it made Mom happy, he’d be happy. Who knew their old set of silverware from their first apartment together would make the perfect pair of doves for their twentieth wedding anniversary.
Because they seemed to have a mind of their own lately, my thoughts drifted toRyan. Since that very first day I met him, I felt something for him. Sure it was five years ago and we were nothing more than scrawny, prepubescent teens, but I felt something nonetheless. Maybe it was because he was weak, because he was at the mercy of the kid sitting on top of him. Maybe it was because I later found out that kid was his brother, but whatever it was, I felt something for him.
And over the years as I watched him from a distance, I hated seeing how he never spoke up, always sat in the back of the classroom, never did anything to bring any attention his way. So at first it was just curiosity I felt. But it changed when he changed.
When he grew six inches over a summer and gained what had to be at least forty pounds of muscle, my feelings for him morphed just as much.While the seventh-grade version of Ryan being bullied solidified my personal belief that I would do anything to stand up for the underdog, twelfth-grade Ryan solidified an entirely different belief I had all long.
He made me know for certain I was gay because I wanted his soft, full lips pressed against mine as much as I needed my next inhale. Just as my hands worked the torch and the piecesof my project came together, Ryan and his very existence became the catalyst for my own self-realizations about my sexuality.
And it absolutely killed me not to know how he felt.
He’d never had a girlfriend. Hell, he barely hadanyfriends.
After powering down the torch, I lifted the mask from my face and looked down at the halfway completed second dove. An oddly giddy happiness came to lifein my chest as I stared down at the metal bird. I wanted to become his friend, to know more about him, if I just went for it.
And working under the guise of our final project, I had the perfect opportunity to do just that.
“Quinn,” Mom called into the garage without looking at what I was doing. She was already under strict instruction not to peek, a task that I thought she not-so-secretly enjoyed.“Your friends are here.”
After pulling off my gloves, I looked down at my watch. “Shit,” I cursed.
“Hey,” Mom admonished with a rueful smile tugging at her lips. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”
“Sorry, Mom.” I tossed my gloves and mask onto the table and quickly covered up the doves. Making sure to kiss her cheek as I walked past her, I explained, “It’s the homecoming game. We’re allgoing together. See you later.”
“Okay, honey. Have fun,” she spoke to my retreating back. “Keep an eye out for Sarah. She’s there with her friends, too.”
“Okay. Bye.”
The reminder from Mom wasn’t necessary. It never was. When it came to being the older brother, I took my role very seriously. Overprotective almost to a fault, I watched out for Sarah at every turn.
By the time my friends andI pulled up to the game, it was already underway. Even though it was only a few minutes into the first quarter, the crowd was already up in arms, cheering and yelling like their lives depended on the volume of their screams.
