CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE Cooper
My father’s voice carried up the stairs and through my open bedroom door. “He’s up there,” I heard him tell Mikey. “You must’ve really angered him this time, Mike,” he added. “He didn’t join us for dinner, so I know he’s in a mood.”
Mikey either didn’t respond or he was quiet, but I heard steps on the staircase and figured either him or Dad were on their way up. I rolled over and faced the wall before the door opened.
“Still mad at me?” Mikey asked softly, walking across the room and nudging my shoulder. “Can I lay down with you?”
“You never asked before,” I muttered.
Mikey lay on his back beside me and scooted as close to my back as he could, his hand between my butt and his hip.
I was angry with him but I couldn’t escape my longing for his touch whenever we were near one another.
For as long as I could remember things had been this way.
I just had to touch him, feel his presence, be in his space at all times.
I figured he tolerated me because of our closeness, but as we aged I worried we were close to moving past that sort of boyhood friendship.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, tapping my butt with his hand. “I shouldn’t discount your feelings or relationship with Hastings by saying off handed shit like that.”
“It’s okay,” I said.
“No, it isn’t, Coop. Truthfully, I don’t know why you put up with me.”
He knew why. He was just being nice and not saying it out loud.
“I’m just being a baby about stuff,” I said. “Sometimes jokes hurt more when they come from you.”
“Why don’t you tell me shit like this then?” He rolled over and spooned with me, draping his arm over my hip and resting his hand on my stomach.
I wasn’t exactly sure why I hadn’t, but figured it was because I was afraid to lose him.
If I nagged him too much I worried he’d get tired of me.
“I don’t know,” I mumbled, enjoying his closeness and his fingers gently caressing my stomach through my T-shirt.
“It’s just . . . well, sometimes I think you forget about my feelings about being gay. ”
Mikey propped himself up on his elbow and looked over me, his chin digging into my shoulder. “I do?” he asked. “I sure as shit don’t mean to, Coop.”
“You told Hastings you’d trade Jennifer for me. I know you’re joking but it makes me feel less than, Mikey,” I began, trying hard to keep a level voice and to not start bawling. “I don’t wanna seem like a consolation prize.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“You forget that most people don’t treat me the way you do,” I reminded him. “I’m sure I only escape the name calling because you’re popular. If we weren’t friends they’d be calling me fag and pansy like they do to Rusty Whitman.”
“I’d kick their fucking asses,” he stated. “So let ‘em try.”
“See?” I pointed out. “Just like that.”
Mikey tugged on my shoulder and rolled me over when he readjusted onto his back again then lifted his arm for me to slide under. I scooted closer and rested my head on his shoulder. “I’m just saying I’d stick up for you, is all, Coop.”
“Who sticks up for Rusty?”
Mikey instantly sat up and turned to face me. “Who’s calling you a fag?”
“Nobody. That’s my point,” I said. “If we weren’t friends and I didn’t have your whole group of cool friends, I’d be toast.”
“Bullshit!” he hissed. “Everyone loves you, Coop.”
“Maybe, but if they do it’s only because of you,” I argued. “And don’t get me wrong, I appreciate that we’re friends, but if I’m supposed to accept that you really care and respect me, it sucks when you make a joke about being with me instead of Jen when we both know that’ll never happen.”
Mikey let out a breath, tapping my shoulder. “Not true, Coop.”
“You don’t get it, Mikey. People look to you to decide how they feel about others.
Come on, you see that, right?” I asked. He shook his head like I’d just delivered the most ridiculous news he’d ever heard.
“And my point is if you say stuff like you did in front of Hastings, why won’t everyone else do the same? You minimized me.”
“Jesus, Coop,” he responded. “Why haven’t you told me this before?”
“Fear I guess.”
“Fear of what?”
“Losing our friendship, I suppose,” I admitted. “Then what would I be at school? I’m not like you. People flock to you, Mikey. I just stand beside you.”
Mikey turned to his side so he could face me, his right hand on my hip and his other reaching for mine. Our faces were mere inches apart. “That will never happen, Coop. Ever.”
I began to cry. “You say that . . . but . . .,” I began.
Mikey pulled me into his arms and held me.
I let myself cry as all of my fears about losing my best friend surged through me.
I hated that he joked about trading me to a guy who I had hoped could offer me what I’ve never had: a boyfriend.
I knew Hastings was a replacement for who I really wanted, but at least maybe there was a chance that he saw me in a way that Mikey didn’t.
“I didn’t know you felt that way, Coop, but I still think you’re wrong,” he said. “I’m the one who is afraid of losing you. Trust me, I know what it feels like.”
I pulled away from him. “How do you know what it feels like?” I asked. “And besides, I would never quit on you,” I stated.
Mikey looked like he’d stepped on a landmine and didn’t know whether to take a step forward or stay put as he stared at me. “I . . . I was talking about Dad,” he stumbled. “Losing someone so close and all.”
“Oh . . . oh yeah,” I agreed, studying him closely.
I’m not sure he noticed but he was holding my hand and gently caressing my knuckles.
The connection felt amazingly intimate and different than how we normally were.
We were pretty affectionate but this felt unusual even for us, and I couldn’t quite figure out why.
He stared into my eyes like he had something more to say but was hesitant to speak the words. His free hand moved loose hair out of my eyes, his fingers lingering on my skin. Our eyes locked and my breath hitched.
I was probably imagining things but he seemed like he wanted to kiss me.
There was nothing in the world I wanted more, but also knew I’d be terrified if we crossed that line.
We held each other all the time, even showered together and washed each other’s backs.
If that wasn’t intimate I’m not sure what was, but to kiss him?
He broke the stalemate and pulled his hand back from my forehead. “So do you really like Hastings that way? Like as your boyfriend?” he asked, looking past me, perhaps not wanting to hear my answer.
“He’s the only guy who has ever asked me to hang out other than you,” I said. “I guess that’s something, right?”
“That’s not what I asked you.”
Our eyes realigned and he waited for an answer.
Could I tell him what I truly hoped for?
Maybe it was just a coincidence, but we both bit our lower lips at exactly the same time.
“I’m not certain he likes boys exclusively like I do,” I said, still dodging his real question.
“He’s handsome and he asked me to prom,” I added, running out of ways to avoid admitting I was desperate for someone to see me as a potential person to love. “He’s funny too.”
“I know you, Coop, and what you just said doesn’t sound like the you I know. How does he make you feel?”
My eyes widened at his question. How did Hastings make me feel?
Better question was when did Mikey start talking like Oprah?
He was definitely acting weird, almost like an adult.
Normally he would’ve made fun of Hastings, told me to blow him or some dumb jock comment, but he was suddenly acting like a mature person.
“He doesn’t,” I whispered, admitting the truth. I felt nothing real toward Hastings and after his comments about Jennifer and how hot she was, I knew he didn’t see me that way either. Neither of us had our breath taken away by the other.
“Nothing?” Mikey pushed. “You feel nothing?”
“I was lying to myself, Mikey. I just want to have someone for once,” I confessed. “Is it so bad to just want to be loved?”
“No. I feel the same,” he said.
I was stunned by the admission. “But . . . Jennifer loves you,” I protested. “And you love her, right?”
“We don’t really love each other,” he stated, shocking me. “People like us are supposed to be a couple in high school, Coop. It’s all bullshit optics.”
I swear I wouldn’t have recognized him if we weren’t right in front of one another. This was definitely Mikey, but a stranger version for sure.
“This has been the oddest Sunday I can remember,” I said. “Are you okay, Mikey? I don’t wanna hurt your feelings, but you’re acting differently.”
He lifted his brows and grinned. “Well, get ready, buddy,” he began, pushing away from me.
“Like you always say, every day is like Sunday. It doesn’t get better than this.
” Mikey leaned in and casually kissed me directly on the lips.
“See ya tomorrow?” He stood and headed for the open door but stopped before leaving and turned toward me. “Am I forgiven?”
I nodded, too confused to speak.