18. Matthias
18
MATTHIAS
AGE SEVENTEEN
Wy and I are closer than ever.
But not in the way I’d like. Not in the way that has me waking up in the middle of the night panting and needing to change my sheets before the housekeeper gets to them.
How I look at Wy now is different.
Very. Very. Different.
Before, I’d rush from my house every morning before the sun was even up, just to spend time with my friend. To escape the shithole I call home.
Now though, I run for a very different reason. Well, the above still applies, but it’s not what has me tripping over my own feet. These days, it’s my obsession with Wyatt driving me. My best friend. The one I desperately want to call my boyfriend.
And he has no idea.
I spend hours watching him, trying to pretend that he’s mine—to capture enough moments with him to analyze over and over again at night. Did his hand linger on mine on purpose? Has he noticed I’m as tall as him now? Does he suspect I have feelings for him? Does he have feelings for me?
Those last two, I know the answers to. I wish I fucking didn’t, but I do.
Wy is completely oblivious to my feelings.
And as straight as a fucking arrow.
It’s obvious to me, and yet sometimes I pretend I don’t know. I pretend that he wants me just as much as I want him.
It’s late summer and we’re in the woods I like to think of as ours. It’s funny, most kids our age spend all their time indoors on game consoles. Not me and Wy. If it’s summer, that means one thing.
Spending time together. Outside. Under the canopy of trees. No one else can find us here. It’s just us.
Seeing as we can’t go to each other’s houses, we instead roam the woods, swim in the lake, and occasionally go into town for milkshakes and burgers. But only if Wy has managed to scrape together some money to pay for himself.
He never lets me pay. Ever.
I don’t need your charity, Matt.
So I never push it. I just let him be. And he does the same for me. Neither of us talks about our home life, but he knows about my brothers, knows my family is rich, the same as I know that his isn’t.
I’m not sure if he knows how rich we are. It’s disgusting, really. It’s not like we’ve earned it, not my father anyway. He’s living off the hard work of his ancestors, and lording it over everyone else like he’s done something miraculous to deserve it.
Wy knows how little I care about any of it—the money, the luxuries, the status. I’m embarrassed by all of it. I hate it. I’d give it all to Wy in a heartbeat if I thought he’d take it.
But he won’t. I know that. He won’t even let me buy him new sneakers, despite the fact that his sock is showing through the toe again. The few times I’ve mentioned it, he stonewalls me, goes completely fucking silent until I let it drop.
There’s nothing I hate more than that. I’ll take a beating from my father every day over the silence from Wyatt. I can’t stand it. I can’t stand not talking to him, having him shut me out.
It rips me apart.
Thankfully, it never lasts more than a few minutes. Just enough until I let it go and change the subject. Then Wy returns to his normal, sunny self. He does that, and I can breathe again.
If he ever stopped speaking to me for longer than that, I think I’d asphyxiate—just stop existing. Sometimes I envision it and I lose the ability to breathe. That’s how I know I wouldn’t survive it.
Dramatic, sure. But I mean it. Even during the other seasons where we’re forced apart, we stay in touch. Wyatt has a shitty pay-as-you-go cell phone. He thinks there’s a glitch on it because he never runs out of credit.
What he doesn’t know is I stole one of the top-up cards years ago. Every week, I add twenty dollars to it, just so I can keep talking to him.
I can’t stop. I can’t give him up. He’s my obsession and addiction.
Wyatt Malone is so much more than my best friend. He’s my everything.
We’re lying on our backs in the dirt. There’s a twig digging into my shoulder and an extremely pointy stone under my right ass cheek. But I’m not moving. Not even an inch.
If I do, Wy might notice that our shoulders are touching, that his fingers are idly toying with the leather bracelet on my wrist. The one he gave me for my sixteenth birthday.
It’s the perfect moment.
Or, it would be, if Wyatt wasn’t talking about what he was.
“Her boobs were magnificent,” he says dreamily. “They felt softer than I’d imagined.”
I close my eyes. This right here is how I know that Wyatt is completely oblivious to my feelings. If he suspected, he’d never talk about his girlfriend like this in front of me. I was fucking grateful they got together before the summer started. I’d been able to hold it together as he first mentioned her over the phone. A transfer student named Katie. She quickly became the main topic of discussion during our daily calls. As Wyatt’s crush grew, so did my heartache. Any hope that this summer might be the one where he saw me as something more than a friend faded away.
I knew where it was going before Wy did. Of course Katie would fall for his charms. Who wouldn’t? There isn’t a boy alive as beautiful as my Wyatt. He’s lost his lanky form, filling it out with lean muscles I imagine make other boys envious. Not me. Well, I am envious, but not for the same reason. I’m envious that I’ll never be able to touch them. I’ll never be able to run my hands across his arms and up to his face, holding on to his cheeks as I lean forward to kiss him.
Katie will be able to do all of this though.
I push her out of my mind, thinking about him once more.
This last summer he shot up to six feet, his broad shoulders making him the perfect quarterback for his school’s team. The dimple in his cheek is now dusted with dark stubble. I’ve spent too many nights imagining what it’d feel like on my face, on my neck.
On other places.
And that’s just his external beauty. It has nothing on what’s on the inside. Once Katie discovers that, she’d be a fool to let him go.
“I’m sorry, should I not be telling you this? Am I making you uncomfortable?”
My eyes fly open, head twisting to see Wy’s blue eyes shining with concern. Fuck. Does he know how I?—
“Because you’re gay,” he continues, and the fear and hope vanishes as fast as it appeared. “Does it make you uncomfortable me telling you this stuff?”
I should say yes. Using that as an excuse means I don’t have to suffer with the stabbing pain that increases with every word about her.
“No, it’s fine.” I smile at him. “Tell me everything.”
He picks up where he left off, this time delivering a soliloquy about Katie’s lips. I tune out his words, instead focusing on his mouth. The shape of his cupid’s bow. How the top lip is slightly bigger than the lower one. How it crooks up on the left side when he’s amused.
I focus on that. It keeps me sane while he waxes lyrical about Katie. I don’t regret telling him to continue. It breaks my heart, but it’s better than the alternative. If I ask Wy to keep this from me, what else will he stop talking about?
It’s stupid, but my fear keeps me silent.
And keeps Wy talking.
A drop of water hits my nose. Then one on my cheek. My forehead.
“Fuck,” I glare up at the sky. The clouds are dark and roiling above us, thunder rumbling ominously in the distance. “I’m sorry. I checked the weather and it said it’d be clear all day.”
“It’s fine,” he mumbles, but it’s a lie. He sits up, body crackling with nervous energy. I jump up too, eyeing him warily. “It’s my issue.”
“No,” I snap as a crack blasts overhead. “It bothers you, so it’s our issue.”
He flinches as lightning flashes, illuminating his dim pallor. My jaw clenches. I don’t know where this fear of Wy’s comes from, but I know I need to get him out of here. I want him to feel safe. I need him safe.
“Come on,” I tug on him. We’re too far from anywhere with proper shelter, but there’s an old bunker close by. A leftover relic from some doomsday prepper. Wyatt and I used to camp out there when we were younger, pretending to be soldiers. “Let’s go.”
We start running, and it takes a few heartbeats for me to realize I’m holding Wyatt’s hand, that I grabbed him instinctively.
And he let me.
I swallow hard, ducking my head against the driving rain. Wyatt is running at my side, cursing as the ceaseless storm seems to chase us.
I can’t think of any of it. Nothing but getting him to safety.
And how right it feels to hold his hand.
The gray structure appears between the trees, moss partially hiding it. I increase my pace grimly, keeping a tight grip on him, wanting this to end so he’s not afraid, but not wanting to let go of him.
I want to hold his hand forever.
Without words, we slip and slide down the steps. The rudimentary door we put up years ago is still there, a little crooked thanks to the elements, but undisturbed.
“Shit,” Wy says as we fall inside, slamming the wood closed behind us. His hand leaves mine and I try not to mourn the loss. “That snuck up on us.”
“Are you okay?” I demand, gripping his shoulders and searching his face. “Wy?”
He exhales shakily, running a hand through his hair. My gaze lingers on the veins in the backs of his hands. “I’m okay. Think I need to sit down.”
I clear a space for him the best I can, kicking leaves and sticks to one side. It’s practically pitch black down here, a trickle of light coming in through the gaps around the door. There’s a scurrying in the corner and I try not to imagine what else might be seeking shelter too. “Here, sit down.”
Wy squeezes my shoulder before dropping to the floor with a sigh. He tilts his head up to me, but in the darkness, I can’t make out his features. It’s okay, I’ve studied them so much in the past I can probably draw them from memory.
A work of art. So fucking beautiful.
“Sit with me?”
Something skitters past my foot and I wince. “Sure.”
I can’t say no to Wyatt. I never could and never will.
I lower myself cautiously beside him. Thunder rumbles in the distance and Wyatt edges close to me. We’re closer now than when we were lying on the woodland floor. Every inch is pressed together, from our shoulders to our feet. “This okay?”
“’Course,” I pat his knee, forcing myself to just touch it twice before removing my hand. “Whatever you need, Wy.”
Lightning flashes, illuminating the space more brightly. I see Wy wince and leap into action. “Tell me something.”
“Like what?”
“Anything,” I say desperately, needing to distract him. I pick a subject at random. “What do you want to be when you’re older?”
There’s a long pause. “What makes you think I’ve thought about that?”
I laugh, nudging him with my shoulder. “Because it’s you. It wouldn’t surprise me if you’ve got plans A, B, and C already set up.”
He nudges me back. “Prick. How do you know me so well?”
Because I’m in love with you.
“Because you’re my best friend.” That’s the safer answer. The one that’ll keep him at my side. “So? What’s it going to be?”
He gives a quiet chuckle. “Why don’t you guess?”
“Hmm,” I think carefully, drawing together what I know about him, what he’s passionate about. “Helping people, that’s a definite. Not a doctor though.”
“Why not a doctor? You think I’m not smart enough?”
“I’m rolling my eyes, just so you know. It’s dark and I don’t want you to miss that.”
I can almost feel his grin. “Fine, you’re right. Not a doctor, although that is something I considered.”
That doesn’t surprise me. “I think…a lawyer. That’s what you want to be.”
“What makes you think that?”
“You like to help people, but you also feel trapped.” Here, with the storm raging around us, it feels like the time to be honest. Not about everything, but some things. “You want to help people who are in the position you’re in. Family law, if I were to guess.”
Wyatt is silent. His body vibrates against mine, but I know it’s not the storm that’s got him worked up now.
“You know, you could always stay with me?—”
“No,” Wyatt cuts me off gruffly. “I won’t leave Jackson. Not until I’m at college, then I can send him money.”
I have more than enough money to help his whole family, but he won’t take it. I know because I’ve offered it before.
I bite my lip before suggesting something I’ve been thinking about for a while. “What about asking The Firm?”
“Oh, come on,” Wyatt groans. “Don’t tell me you believe that bullshit fairy tale. A group of people making wishes come true for a price? Please.”
Privately, I agree with him, but right now, I’d take a fairy tale if it made Wyatt’s life easier to bear. “Could be worth asking.”
“Nah, I’m not that desperate. Besides, what if they do exist, and then they ask me to smuggle drugs up my butthole or some shit?”
I snort. “Yeah, putting stuff up the ass is more my department than yours.”
There’s a long silence. When Wyatt speaks, there’s a rasp in his voice. “Ah, I didn’t realize you did that.”
Did what? I replay my words and groan inwardly. Great. If the floor could open up and swallow me now, that’d be great. “Technically I haven’t done anything yet.”
“You haven’t?”
“Nope,” my lips pop on the P. “Haven’t had the opportunity.”
That’s not strictly true. But it’s hard to fool around with other people when my dick and my heart are both clinging to a foolish fantasy about Wyatt.
“Huh. But you know that’s…what you like?”
I rake my hands over my face, so fucking grateful for the darkness that’s hiding my blush. “Yep.”
“How?”
I laugh hollowly. What the fuck am I supposed to say to that? Oh, because I have these dreams where you’re above me and…
No. I can’t tell him that.
“I just do,” I say finally.
“Huh,” he repeats vaguely. “Interesting.”
I highly doubt that’s true. Needing to change the subject, I take us back to before. “Anyway, I have another theory as to why you want to be a lawyer.”
“Oh yeah?”
“It’s well-paid. You can finally leave this place behind, and provide for Jackson at the same time.”
There’s a pause before he laughs. “Fuck, you really do know everything about me.”
I smile sadly. Better than he’ll ever know. “Best friend, remember?”
His chin leans on my shoulder and I swear, my heart almost stops. “You’ll always be that, Matt.”
I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. “Promise?”
“’Course. Who else would put up with my grumpy ass?”
“Think I’m the grumpy one out of the two of us. You’re far more of a brat.”
He pinches my side, and I squirm. “You take that back. I’m not a fucking brat.”
He is, but that’s okay. I like him a bit bratty.
I like him just the way he is, even if he’ll never see me the same way.
“Hey, the storm’s stopped,” he says suddenly, getting to his feet. “Come on. Let’s go see the damage.”
He scrambles out of the shelter, but I follow slower, taking a second more in the darkness to gather every emotion about him that’s slipped free.
When I step back into the daylight, there’s no longing in the smile I give my friend. No wistfulness. Very little affection.
Just the mask I wear around him now, with everything else hidden away.
As it needs to be if I want to keep Wy in my life.