“Look, I’m sorry about—” I start. I know I haven’t been a great friend lately.
“Hey, I’m just kiddin’, dudester,” he reaches his hand across the table, clenching it into a fist. I do the same and we bump our fists, knuckles against knuckles. Yeah, we’re good. “So, spill it,” he grins, slurping at his cocoa. I decide to go for casual. Yeah, casual is good.
“I met someone,” I say, trying to keep my voice as aloof as possible.Aloof Luke.Yeah, that’s the new me. Cool, calm, and—
“Yeah?” His eyes beam at me. “That’s great, man. What does Cody say?”
“What do you…?” A cheeky grin erupts from the corner of Riley’s mouth, spreading across his face like wildfire. “You know,” I groan, wiping my hands along my face. Of course, he knows. It still feels a little strange when I touch my face. I’ve let my stubble grow a little thicker because Cody says that he likes how it feels against his cheeks when he rubs up against me. So, I haven’t shaved in days. I hope he’s not into facial piercings, too, because I really don’t want a needle anywhere near my face, but again, there seems to be no limit to the lengths I’ll go to keep my Cody happy.My Cody.
“I didn’tknow,know, but I had my suspicions.” Riley leans back in his chair, crossing his arms in front of him.
“How?” I ask lamely because I fear I already know how.
“Dude… really?” he shakes his head.
“Yeah. I mean, is it really that obvious?” Because shit, if it is, then does the rest of the team know too?
“Well… I mean… not if you’re blind,” he cackles. “Let me paint you a picture and let’s see if it resonates.”Ugh, I forgot that this is what Riley does when he wants to make a point. Hepaints a picture.And not metaphorically speaking. No, an actual fucking picture. How many times has he stormed through my place, looking for a scrap of paper and a pen, until I bought one of those magnetic notepads with an attached pen and stuck it on my fridge?
He reaches for a paper napkin and then rummages through his gym bag.
“Aha!” he exclaims, holding out a pink glitter pen victoriously in front of him.
“Is that—” I snort. If I’m not mistaken, those are unicorns. And rainbows.
“Never mind!” He interrupts me as he starts drawing rapidly on the paper napkin, giving off an air of a manic artist at work. And although Riley may be manic right this very minute, let’s not be fooled. The guy doesn’t have one artistic bone in his body unless it involves a hockey stick or a PlayStation controller. His movements are hectic, a concentrated frown between his auburn brows, as he works on his next stick figure masterpiece. After a few minutes—I’m still, to this day, oblivious as to why it takes minutes and not just seconds to create one of Riley’s masterpieces—he leans back in his chair, panting like he just one-handedly built the Great Pyramid of Giza.
“There,” he says, and my eyes dip to the paper napkin. At first, I’m confused. Something’s off. Then I realize it’s the absence of Riley’s world-renowned stick figures that throws me off. There’s just what appears to be a big ball and a smaller ball and a lot of… swirls?
“What is this?” I squint as if the drawing hides some secret message.
“What do you mean,what is this?” Riley leans in over the coffee table and points at the big ball. “This is Cody, dude. And this,” he points at the smaller ball, “that’s you, man,” he grins. Okay, so I’m a ball? I’m a ball.
“And these?” I trace one of the swirls with my index finger.
“Dude, it’s because you’re moving, okay? What the fuck is wrong with you?” he shakes his head. “It’s like the universal cartoon sign for movement,” he groans like I’m this annoying kid in class who just doesn’t get it, while he does some weird-ass zig-zag judo move with his right hand. It’ssonot the universal sign for movement, but whatever, I’ll let him have it.
“We’re moving,” I sigh.
“Well, not Cody, obviously. He’s the sun. He doesn’t move. But you are.”
“I am?”
“Yeah, you’re this little planet down here, just rotating around Cody, the sun.”Okay…I’m confused. What were we talking about? I may be the one with a scattered brain, but I’ve got nothing on Riley. Most of our conversations end up exactly like this, down some weird rabbit hole, and I have to backtrack through endless detours to get back to the beginning.
“Look, man,” Riley eventually seems to take pity on me. “It’s been like this since day one. Since Mitchell first entered the locker room next to Coach. It’s like… It’s like you don’t notice anything or anyone else. Like you’re blinded. By the sun.” He stabs the big ball with his glitter pen.
Huh. When he puts it like that, I can totally see it. Itdoeskind of make sense. When Cody is in the room, he’s all I see. Like my entire body just naturally gravitates toward him. Like everything else fades away and there’s just him, pulling me in, while I bask in the warmth of his mere presence.
“So, when you ask me how I know? Dude, I’ve just been waiting for you to tell me you’re together,” he smiles reassuringly, unconditional acceptance and bro love painted across his bearded face.
“But…”
“By the way, man,” he chuckles. “Half the time this is you,” he points at the bigger ball, the sun, “and this is Mitchell.” His index finger brushes across the smaller ball that is now a smear of pink glitter color.
“Yeah?” I croak needily.
“For fuck’s sake, dudester,” Riley bellows through the buzzing coffee shop, a few patrons turning in our direction. “Do I gotta paint you another picture?” he threatens, holding the pink glitter pen up in front of him like the ultimate weapon of mass destruction. But I just shake my head as I try to get my heart under control. Because knowing that Cody looks at me like I’mthe damn sun is just the best feeling ever. But also scary. Because if Riley has done the math, then how many of the guys have, too?
