“Hi,” he says, answering the call on the second ring. “What’s wrong?”
“How do you know something’s wrong?”
He laughs softly. “You text, Donovan. You never call. If you’re actually talking on the phone, I assume something’s wrong.”
“My mask is missing.”
“Missing?”
“Yeah, apparently it was here last night, but it’s gone and nobody knows where it went.” I hesitate for a moment, frowning at the thought of what I’m going to have to wear. “If it isn’t found, I’m back to the green one.”
“Absolutely not.” His disgust is palpable on the other end of the call, and I almost smile.
“I won’t have a choice, Loh.”
“Meet me at my place after practice. I’ll fix it.”
I’m taken aback by the offer a bit. “I don’t expect that. I just called to hear your voice.”
He’s silent for a moment, and I can imagine he’s smiling that tender little smile he gets when I say things to him that he likes to hear. “No… I don’t think I could live with myself if I had to see you in that abomination again. Bring it to my place. I’ll either fix it or burn it.”
“Okay,” I reply, with a smile of my own. A quick glance up and down the hallway tells me I’m alone here, so I take a chance. “I love you.”
“Oh,” he breathes, and again I picture his tender little smile. “I love you too.”
I get off the phone just as Blake wanders around the corner, shaking his head. “I don’t know, Donny. We’ll find it, but right now nobody knows where it went.”
“Thanks,” I reply, offering a smile even though inside I’m as prickly as a hedgehog.
The green mask, it is. I guess I’ll have that for the foreseeable future.
Thankfully, I also have Shiloh.
“God, I could kill whoever painted this.” Shiloh breathes as he stares at the green goalie mask with the wonky snake on it. He picks the mask up off the table in front of him with a clear look of disgust on his face, like it’s going to somehow transfer the ugly over to him.
“Yeah,” I comment, still irritated that my Godzilla mask has gone missing. Irritated and slightly worried, if I’m being honest. The message I sent to the anonymous account with a demand to bring it back has been read, but I’ve received no response. I’m not famous enough at all for some rabid fan to take my shit, so it had to have been him.
And by him, I mean Kyle.
My heart starts pounding a bit frantically in my chest as I consider that my space was violated and something precious was taken from me. It’s a different feeling than when I realized Shiloh had helped himself to my apartment and my hoodie, though I can’t explain why in any way that would make sense.
“You okay?” Shiloh asks, breaking into my train of thought.
I nod, telling myself to settle down. To focus on him instead of spiraling off inside my head about Kyle and his probablethievery. Shiloh doesn’t need to know my suspicions because that will just open a whole can of worms that isn’t his issue to deal with. It’s not mine either, if I’m being honest. It all boils down to Oakley, and I don’t dare tell Shiloh that. It would only give him more reason to despise my best friend, and it would be really nice if they could someday get along.
I glance down, frowning at the hideous mask in Shiloh’s perfect hands. “Do you really think you can do something with it?”
He’s silent for a moment before he nods curtly. “Yeah, I can fix it. Grab the sandpaper and help me scrape this clear coat off.”
He plunks the mask down on the table like he’s happy to not be touching it anymore, and we get started sanding down the surface. I can’t help but smile to myself as Shiloh makes small huffs of disgust while we work, his nose wrinkling and mouth turning down into an almost comical frown. He really fucking hates this artwork, and I don’t dare let him know that his reactions are quite adorable to me. I don’t need that scowl of disgust on his face turned my way.
“I didn’t think it could get worse, but look at it. Absolutely hideous,” Shiloh announces, as soon as the clear coat has been scuffed away, taking some of the green paint along with it in places. He leans over and clicks on an incredibly bright lamp that’s attached to the table with an adjustable clamp. Lifting the mask again, he turns it over in his hands, examining each area closely beneath the wash of brilliant light. His final assessment? “Gross.”
He’s not entirely wrong. Removing the clear coat has revealed shaky lines and blotchy colors that even I can see aren’t right. You get what you pay for, I suppose. “You can do something cool with it, right?”
He shoots me an incredulous look, like he’s offended I’d ever ask that question. “Of course I can.”
“Do you want me to go?” I ask as he slams it back down on the table and moves to a wooden crate that sits along the wall beside the table. He digs through it, pulling out paints in shades of green and gold, along with a handful of brushes, before humming under his breath like he’s thinking. I’m about to ask my question again in case he didn’t hear me when he makes a small noise like he’s made a decision. His lips curl into a smile as he dives back into the box of paint, pulling out a shade of red that reminds me of blood.
