Oof.“Not a big fan, myself,” I said.
“I fucking loved it.”He snorted.“But I didn’t take it seriously enough.Parties, boys, drugs, repeat.You know.”
“Not exactly, but kinda.”
“No boys, huh?”Now he caught my eye.
I shook my head.“No.Not since you.”
His thick eyebrows went up.“We’re talking about it now?”
“I’m sorry I wouldn’t, back then.I’m sorry about a lot of things.”
He shrugged.“It taught me I don’t like being a dirty secret, anyhow.”
I suddenly felt like I was going to puke, but I pushed through.“Looking back, I’m honestly just surprised you put up with it as long as you did.”
“Well, I was a desperate theater geek and you were the star quarterback.It’s the stuff they make teen movies about.”
I hadn’t thought about it like that.Like, atall.But holy shit, it kinda was.
He must’ve seen it on my face, because he laughed again.“Jesus Christ, Kovacs.You had no idea what the fuck was going on, did you?”
“Apparently not.”
He dropped the cigarette and stepped on it.“Neither did I, if I’m honest.Not like I expected you to ask me to prom or anything.I knew the score.But you know how it is at that age; you still have hope about shit.Teenage rite of passage.”
The idea stunned me, which just drove home how right he was.He used to bitch and moan about the opiate effect of mating rituals like homecoming and prom on boring robo-teens with nothing to look forward to in life.Now, I had the distinct feeling he had, in fact, hoped I would ask him to prom.A huge, sweeping, public gesture to make up for a year of sneaking around, redeeming myself like the teen movie hero.
Me.A fucking closeted, jock-brained idiot who kissed him in dark locker rooms after everyone else went home, who acted like we were just casual acquaintances in public, who never told my best friends about the nights we sneaked out of events together to screw around in my beater Volkswagen.
A lot less far-fetched than me hoping to play in the NFL, anyhow.“I hate how I acted.The whole time, but especially after I left.I should’ve texted.I almost did a hundred times.”
“You thought I’d come all the way to Tennessee for that dick, huh?”His smile was playful again even though his eyes were still wide.
I let him steer us away from the regrets and toward the laughter.It was his sweet spot, and that was all I cared about.I never thought I’d get the chance to apologize to him.I was gonna take it for all it was worth tonight.“No.But I thought about you a lot.”
I’d buried myself in training camp to stop myself from thinking about him, as a matter of fact.I lived, breathed, spoke football, and in the offseason, I worked out, studied, and then did it all over again.Eventually, the memories didn’t hit as hard, I found other outlets, and time did its work.I told myself I was being responsible.That no one with a brain would let a high school hookup hold them back from a bright and celebrated future.
The sad part was I didn’t even care when the football dream came crashing down.
We were both quiet for a second in the growing dark, the buzzing of cicadas and crickets coming to life around us.The sound of a summer in the valley, oddly musical, very comforting.
He stood suddenly and went back to digging in his trunk.“I know it’s fucking in here somewhere…”
“Can I help?”
“No, it’s my mess; I’ll figure it out.How did you end up here tonight, anyhow?”
“Mom needed a date.”I snorted and shoved my hands into my pockets.“Which just means she didn’t want to come alone.”
“You have to come far?”
“Nah.My place is in Robinson.”
“No shit?”He peeked up again.“We’re neighbors.”
“Yep.”
