Chapter 9
“Wait, so what did you do?” Javier says with a laugh.
I shrug and run my hand through the creek, splashing water up into the air. It reflects the sun and glitters everywhere. “I threw the candy bar at the guy’s face and got the hell out of there.”
He laughs again and shakes his head at me. I can’t help but watch the motion. His eyes are so bright—their warm, comforting brown color. His curls bounce, but gently, so you know they’d be soft if you touched them.
“You’ve been through some crazy shit,” he says.
I shrug again. I was telling him about my first and last shoplifting experience. I had been influenced by some of the other kids in my foster home. It had spectacularly blown up in my face.
“Yeah. It wasn’t the best decision. But that was the night of my first kiss too, so it wasn’t all bad.”
Hanging out in the woods—our spot, if that’s what you want to call it—has become a regular thing for us.
It started off as every so often. Anytime we’d accidentally run into each other outside, one of us would suggest going.
Now, it’s a habit. Every single day after school or after his football practice ends, that’s where we end up.
And it’s nice. I look forward to it. More than I should. It makes me think maybe I’m losing the thread on this friendship with him.
Maybe he means more to me than just a friend.
If that’s true, I’m dumb as fuck for letting that happen.
A weird look comes across his face. A mixture of curiosity and annoyance. “Your first kiss?” he asks, looking away from me and absently picking at a leaf he gets off the ground.
I nod but don’t give anything else.
Javi and I talk about pretty much everything. He’s turned into my safe space, which surprised the fuck out of me. I didn’t know I could have one of those.
But we’ve never talked about this before.
Basically any sex or sexuality conversations have been unofficially off limits for us. I say unofficially because neither of us has said so, we both just seem to avoid the topic.
I know why I’m not. Historically, straight guys don’t like to hear about my escapades with other guys. Even something super mild, like who I have a crush on.
It usually gets really weird after. So, I stopped bringing it up, and then, eventually, stopped opening up to most people at all.
I’m not sure why I even released that little tidbit for him just now. Maybe I’m testing him. Or looking for a way to fuck up this good thing I have going on.
“What was it like?” he asks as a follow-up.
I pick up a rock and drop it in the water so it makes a satisfying bloop sound. “Um. Do you really want to know?”
He nods and finally makes eye contact with me. “I want to know everything about you.”
It’s at this moment that I realize that yes, I have absolutely lost the thread with this friendship. My stomach and brain both go fucking haywire at his words. They drop and swoop and kick and buzz. All these random feelings that make me feel all floaty inside.
So I tell him about my first kiss. How it sucked and was behind a dumpster and I wasn’t sure if the fish smell came from the trash or Bobby Santana’s mouth.
We laughed and kept sharing and talking until the sun had gone down and Javi’s stepdad texted him to get his ass home.
I said goodbye and watched him disappear behind the hedges that separate our houses. With each step he took, a sour feeling settled deeper and deeper into my gut.
Because it was true. I was definitely feeling something for my straight best friend.
God-fucking-damn it.