“Miiike! Help!” Dennis claws at my jeans, an‘oh shit’expression on his face. “Don’t let him get me!” His pleas ring through the room before they spill over into giggles when Aaron starts tickling him.
Within seconds, I’m right there with them as we spin off into a tornado of arms and legs and laughter. Dennis squeals when I accidentally dig my elbow into his ribs, and Aaron cackles when I fart and stink up the room. We lose track of time until Mrs. Holbrook suddenly yells, “Boys, dinner! Go wash up!”
We come up for air, forgetting who was fighting whom and what we were fighting about. And as taco dinner turns into movie night and later a sleepover, I forget about my life for just a while.
Mr. Holbrook calls Mrs. Winston, asking her to check in on Mom for the night before he goes looking for an extra pair of pajamas for me. I don’t usually wear pajamas anymore because I always wake upbathed in sweat from nightmares, the recurring image of Dad lying dead in his truck haunting me. But at the Holbrooks’ house, I never have nightmares, so I accept the pajamas. With Aaron on one side of me on the couch and Dennis on the other, his head resting against my shoulder, snoring softly, I watch Rick and Morty go on an adventure to Atlantis before Aaron’s mom sends us off to bed. And I forget. I forget about everything, and I’m just Mike.
Chapter 2
Dennis
Eightyearsearlier
The first time I realized I liked boys was two years ago. Sure, looking back, I kind of already knew, like remembering how good-looking Ryan Gosling was or why I didn’t find girls attractive. They were pretty and all, but nothing pushed me beyond being friends with them.
The day that cinched the deal for me was when Aaron, Mike, and I went exploring Ecola State Park. We were climbing up some large, mossy rocks over the waves on the beach when I slipped backward. Mike was right behind me, and he caught me. I was pretty sure he’d saved my life. Instead of hitting my head on the rocks, I fell backward, right into his big, strong arms, my back pressed to his front.
‘I’ve got you,’ he said.
His words were so close to my ear that I think I trembled a little, and my face burned when his warm breath hit my cheek. Those words meant something more to me that day, like a promise he would always be there for me.
I remember tilting my head back to look at him, my fingers gripping his forearm as my heart beat so hard in my chest from the near fall and his closeness. He looked at me, his familiar blue eyes filled with silent strength and kindness. I couldn’t catch my breath, realizing for the first time how pretty they were. They were grayish blue, with hints of yellow and even specks of brown, like little sparks of light. I never thought much about Mike’s eyes before that day, but now they weren’t only blue. Now I saw other colors and emotions in them.
That was the day I fell off a rock and right into love with Mike Tanner, my brother’s best friend.
Maybe love is a stretch, but it’s close. I’ve had a huge crush on him for two years now. Mike has always been nice to me. He never picked on me or got annoyed as we grew up, not like Aaron did. When we were younger, Aaron and I usually ended up wrestling and fighting at least once a week over some slight we always forgot about an hour later. My brother can be cool, and sometimes he’s a dick, but I love him. I think he’ll say the same about me. Mike, though, never made me feel left out, even when my brother didn’t want me around. I never really appreciated it until that day—appreciatedhim. I noticed he had always protected me one way or another. It isn’t always easy to tell because he’s quiet and keeps to himself, unless he’s around Aaron, where he smiles more. My brother loves to hear himself talk, so Mike’s perfect for him.
It’s been hard to hide my feelings for Mike. I want to shout about them, but as far as I can tell, he’s straight. He’s only had one girlfriend, and he and Aaron are always going on and on about girls. Aaron always has a girl on his arm, being the varsity quarterback for the Seaside Spartans. They all want him. Boring!
I’ve tried to look at other boys in high school, but there are only about a hundred freshmen, and almost half of those are girls. So, it’s not like I’ve got a lot to choose from. Still, no other boys compare to Mike.He’s big and strong, despite dropping out of football when he started high school. Beyond his gorgeous eyes, he has this flowy hair you just want to sweep your fingers through. I especially like the way his long bangs fall into his face. But it’s not just his looks. He also takes really good care of his mom, showing how kind he is.
We’re all sitting at the kitchen table eating dinner, and Mike is here, too, because he’s always here. I overheard him talking to Aaron once, worrying about how his mom had been ever since his dad died. That had been the worst. Mike never cried from what I could tell, but you could see the sadness there, like he held it all inside. It’s not the type of sadness like when you’ve had a bad day, but one that feels like it can crush you and make it hard to breathe.
Mom and Dad are talking about boring work stuff as Aaron and I eye the last piece of fried chicken drumstick on the plate, sitting in the center of the table. His eyes gleam, and he smirks at me. A slight movement of his body, and I know he’s about to reach for it, but I’m faster. I’ve always been faster. It’s why I’m a runner.
I grab the drumstick just out of his reach and instantly shove it into my mouth, giving it a good lick all over so he won’t try to take it. You learn little tricks like that growing up with an older brother. We’re perpetually in competition.
“You’re so disgusting,Menace.”
I stick my tongue out at him before taking a large bite of my chicken, just as he lunges across the table at me, but I quickly scoot back in my chair. “You’re just jealous that I’m faster.”
Aaron huffs and rolls his eyes. “You got lucky.”
I wink at him. “Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better.”
Next to me, Mike snickers, shaking his head. Shit, I hope he’s not too grossed out from my licking the chicken. Then again, it’s Mike, and he knows how I can be.
“That’s enough, boys,” Dad snaps.
“Ugh, when do brothers grow out of the fighting and roughhousing?” Mom asks. “I feel like I’m always breaking up the fights.”
Dad chuckles. “I’m sorry to say that we have a long way to go, hun. My three brothers and I fought and wrestled way into our mid-twenties.”
She stares at the ceiling as if it holds all the answers. “Lord, help me.”
“The Spartans have done well this year, Aaron,” Dad says, changing the topic.
My brother shrugs and takes a large bite of mashed potatoes before answering with his mouth full. “I guess. I mean, we’re a small school, so… our athletics department is just underfunded. It would be nice if we made the championship. Maybe next year.”
