“But, like, what are you thinking?” Scott said, his dark eyes even softer, to the point that Carver felt sorry for him. He was so vulnerable. “What do you want to do, here?”
“I want to be with you. I want us to be together.”
“Yeah?” Scott said, leaning forward and studying his face. “Seriously?”
“Haven’t we been talking about this?” Carver said, almost exasperated.
“Not in so many words. I thought you were on the fence.”
“I am on the fence, ‘cause I think I’m gonna have a nervous breakdown in a few months and I don’t want you to see it. But fuck it, you can see it. What are you gonna do, leave me? Forget about me?” Carver could hardly breathe for how giddy he was. They couldn’t stop smiling at each other. “You’re really bad at that.”
“I am,” Scott agreed. “You can have a nervous breakdown if you want. I honestly think you’re entitled.”
“So, you do want to be with me?”
Scott laughed like he was being stupid. “Yeah, obviously.”
Carver bounced on the balls of his heels, leaning over the handlebars toward Scott. “I want to kiss you. Shit.” He glanced around. Plenty of Josie and Hank’s neighbors were out, going about their Monday mornings. “I hate these fucking people.”
“You don’t hate them.”
“No, I don’t.” Carver turned back to Scott, who was looking at him with such a powerful and undisguised affection that he got a pang in his stomach seeing it, like it wasn’t meant for his eyes.
Scott quickly fixed his face. “Um,” he said. “You know I have a roommate.”
“I do. I remember.”
“I have the first floor to myself, the kitchen’s on the second floor and he sleeps on the third, so it’s relatively private, but I — he’s there.”
“We can hang out, I don’t care. What was his name?”
“George. He’s very chill.”
“We can hang out with George,” Carver said, smiling. “Look, I don’t care. I just need — I need this. Everything’s lighter with you. I just want to go with you.”
Scott nodded. “Okay.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, I’ll take you right now, let’s go.”
“Thank you,” Carver exhaled. “Oh my God. I can’t spend one more second with my parents.”
“I can’t blame you.” Scott looked him up and down. “You actually want to get on the back of this motorcycle, though? ‘Cause, what are you wearing? You need to go change.”
Carver looked down at his clothes. “I can’t jump on the bike like this?” he said, laughing. “It’s pretty warm out.”
“In a t-shirt and shorts and Gucci slides? You’re out of your mind.”
“Come on. I’ll hold on very tight.”
“Carver, it’s a thirty-mile trip,” Scott said, pointing at him with a gloved finger. “You should have a leather jacket, you should have leather pants. I’ll let it slide if you put on jeans. You should have boots and gloves.”
Carver grinned at him. “You got an extra helmet?”
“Lucky for you, yes, I have one in the van.”
“You are a Boy Scout.”
