CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE Cooper
Itugged on Mikey’s hand, dragging him to the shower.
“What, you don’t wanna shower together anymore?
” I asked, ignoring whether he did or didn’t.
That was how I treated my best friend. I assumed he’d do whatever I wanted and I’d do the same.
I already admitted I wished he liked me in the same way and he seemed cool about it, but he didn’t know what I truly wanted.
But I didn’t want to be that friend. The creepy, pushy, nag at you until you give in to my wants, friend.
Of course, I wished Mikey saw me in a sexual way but he didn’t.
“I do,” he said, waiting for me to step under the water first like he always did so I wouldn’t be cold.
It was the middle of June, but he was always thinking about my welfare first. Mike squeezed shampoo on my head and began sudsing my hair.
I stepped back, my ass against his front side, my head tilted back so he could massage my scalp.
“Are we getting too old to be showering together?” he asked.
“No,” I answered immediately. “Why would you ask that?”
“No reason I guess,” he said, moving my head under the spray and rinsing my hair. “It doesn’t strike you as a bit odd?”
“Strike me?” I parroted. “Who are you? An English professor? Why are you talking like your Dad all of a sudden?” I asked, turning around.
He pushed my dripping bangs out of my face and grinned at me.
“Seriously, Mikey. You’ve been acting weird all morning.”
“I’m just hoping you don’t wanna stop doing stuff like this.”
“Really?” I asked. “Because to be honest, I’ve been worrying that maybe you were the one that wanted us to stop showering together and having sleepovers.”
“Well, I don’t,” he said.
“Turn around,” I said, twisting him around and adding shampoo to my hand. “What if Jennifer knew?”
“I wouldn’t care if she did?” he admitted. We omitted certain things that we did as friends. Showering together and sharing a bed three to four nights a week were two of them. “I suppose it’d sound weird if folks knew though, right?”
“Yeah, I suppose. And then there’s Hastings,” I added. “He might get jealous if I told him.”
Mikey spun around and swiped shampoo out of his eyes. “What the fuck does Hastings have to with anything?” he demanded. “I thought he was mean to you and that he wanted you to blow him on the down-low. Are we talking about the same Hastings?”
“Do what?” I asked, laughing while I washed my armpits with the bar of soap. “No one’s blowing anyone . . . at least not yet anyway,” I added.
“He practically tried to rape you at the drive-in,” Mikey hissed, anger spreading across his face like a prairie fire in a strong wind.
“No, he didn’t.”
“Yes, he did,” he insisted. “You said he did.”
“Exactly when did I say that, Mikey? Michael isn’t like that.”
He turned the water off and stood staring at me like I was a stranger to him. “You call him Michael?” he asked. “I hate that fucking name.”
“That’s what Jennifer calls you,” I argued.
“The fuck she does!” he raged, shoving me out of the way before he stepped out of the glass enclosure. “I hate it when she calls me that. Always bitching about her job and my beer.”
Mike leaned over the sink with his head slumped when I walked cautiously toward him. What the heck had he just said? What was he talking about?
“Mikey?”
He turned around, red-faced and angry. “What?”
“You’re angry at me. Yelling too,” I stated. “Have I done something wrong?”
“I don’t want you talking to Hastings anymore.”
“But you like Michael. What happened? Why?” I asked, confused by his behavior.
“And stop calling him Michael. If you need to call someone Michael, call me Michael,” he insisted. “I’m your Michael, dammit.”
“You’re Jennifer’s Michael and you’re my Mikey,” I reminded him. “Remember, you hated that I was going to call him New Mikey. We all laughed about it and you guys agreed on this arrangement.”
“That was when he was straight.”
“Have you gone insane? Michael isn’t straight,” I said.
I watched his face when I told him Michael Hastings wasn’t straight and it was as if he actually didn’t believe me and had never heard it before. I knew my best friend and I could tell when he was serious. This wasn’t a joke to him.
“You said he was straight and that he wanted to be on the down-low, Coop,” he whispered. “He wanted blowjobs.”
I walked over and grabbed his hand. “I didn’t say that, Mikey. Honest, you know I didn’t say that.”
His eyes filled and he stared past me and at the wall behind us. I could see his shoulders slump forward in his reflection in the mirror. He turned slightly and looked pleadingly at me. “He’s gay like you?” he whispered.
I nodded.
A single tear escaped one of his eyes. “Do you like him like that?”
“I do,” I admitted. “Maybe. I’m not quite sure, but probably, yes.” My answer was unsure because Michael Hastings sent mixed signals about his sexuality.
“Okay then,” he said. “I . . . I understand.” He seemed defeated by the news that Hastings was gay even though I swore we’ve discussed it before.
He’d been in support of me exploring something with the new guy at school when I mentioned I thought Hastings was cute.
“Can you give me a bit? I’m really tired, Coop.
” I let go of his hand and he turned toward the mirror, facing me in its reflection. “I guess I forgot.”
“It’s okay, Mikey,” I soothed. “But can I ask you something?”
He nodded.
“Are you really drinking beer?”
“No. I was . . . I was, you know. I was joking about that.”
“It’d kill your mom if you were,” I reminded him. “You know, the drunk driver and everything.”
“What drunk driver?”
Something was way off with Mike and I knew I should tell his mom but I also understood that we always had each other’s backs.
We didn’t squeal on one another. I quickly dressed because I was running late without a ride from Mikey.
“I’ll text you in a coupla hours, Mikey,” I said.
“I need to ask my mom to give me a ride. I’m meeting Michael at the McDonalds at the mall. ”
He followed me out of the bathroom and climbed onto his bed, ignoring me as I left the room even though I’d waited for a goodbye from him. I kept my promise in regards to having his back and did not mention a thing to Mrs. H..
Something wasn’t right.