“Yeah, me too.”
“You’ve changed since last year,” he says and rolls over to face me. The shark’s tooth dangles from his neck and the light from the pool plays on his face, making his eyes dance. He’s gorgeous in all lighting.
“How’s that?” I ask.
“You’ve, like, grown up. Started shaving. Got a J-O-B. Mr. Man.”
“Trying to please you, Boss,” I joke, only not really. When I think about the male role models in my life, Chris is who comes to mind. I’d be truly lost without him as my guide. Maybe I can’t tell him how I really feel, but there are other emotions I have for him that have nothing to do with my sexuality and everything to do with the kind of person he is.
“I really admire you, Chris. The way you’ve always stood up for me, and other dweebs like me. The way you keep peace in the jungle at school. And you’re always doing nice things for other people. You’ve been a really good friend.”
“Are we breaking up?”
I chuckle. “No, man, I’m trying to express myself. Isn’t that what you’re always telling me I need to do?”
“Yeah.” He rolls onto his back and clasps his hands over his perfect, ripped abs. I give myself to the count of three—three seconds to stare, and then I look away.
“Anyway, you’ve always been there for me, since that first time. I hope I’m there for you too, when you need me.”
“You are, Theo.” He sighs. “You are.”
WE DON’Tend up watching any horror movies. I’m exhausted from all the emoting of the day. I roll out the futon cushion I normally sleep on when I spend the night, and Chris pulls out my favorite old comforter, well-worn and smelling of him. Even stale-smelling Chris is pretty nice.
We each get comfortable in our beds, and Chris shuts off the lights. After a few minutes, he leans over the side of his bed.
“You awake?” he asks.
“No,” I tease.
“Come up here.”
I don’t question it. His bed is a king-sized. I used to share with him before it got weird. I even have my own side. I climb up and lie on my side, facing him in the dark.
“Remember the time we watchedItand you made me barricade the bedroom door to keep Pennywise out?” he asks.
“And developed a phobia of clowns?” He grins and I continue the thread. “Remember when we watchedDr. Gigglesand you asked me where my dad kept the dead bodies.”
Chris starts cracking up. “And you were taking a shower….” He can’t stop laughing long enough to finish, so I do it for him.
“And you shut off the lights and screamed like your head was being chopped off.” He’s laughing so hard there are tears coming out of his eyes. “And I busted my ass in the shower and almost got a concussion. Your mom was so pissed.”
“You were buck naked,” he says, wheezing. “Tore down the shower curtain and everything.”
Some of the plaster came out of the wall as well. I felt really bad about it. Not to mention the embarrassment when we had to explain it to his parents.
“So not cool,” I say.
“You were so pissed,” he says between gasps.
“Yeah, and I seriously went looking for the dead bodies the next time I was at my dad’s office. The receptionist was all, like, what are you looking for? And I had to be, like, um, an extra toothbrush?”
“I didn’t mean to traumatize you,” he says, looking sad as a pound puppy, but I know he’s not sorry at all.
“So messed up, man. You really get off on scaring me.”
He smiles. “You’re not that easy to scare, though. That time you ate shit at Tropical Smoothie and got knocked out. That shit was scary.”
I bombed on a trick and fell wrong, knocked my head against a curb, and went unconscious for a spell. “And you forced me to wear a helmet for, like, weeks after, even though it made me look like a total dweeb.”
