Strange Lad (Dreadful Boys #2)

1. Jorge

Jorge

Walking On Sunshine

I have a secret.

A filthy, horrible, backstabbing secret that I’ll keep clutched to my chest for however long I need to. This is what I get for being a nice guy, honestly. I’m charming, friendly, and have a hero complex like a sonofabitch. It’s easier to save other people than yourself, after all. And I'll use all my talents to my advantage if it keeps up my facade.

It’s not that I’m secretly depressed or miserable. I’ve got it good, all things considered. But there is the monumental lie I can’t seem to own up to, even though I know without a shadow of a doubt that it’ll cost me the most important person in my life. What’s worse is that it really started off so innocently. I was just trying to be helpful. My best friend just had his heart broken, and I scrambled to find anything to make it better—even minimally.

Like, I’m the bestest friend ever.

It’s what I do.

I'll never understand how it transformed into what it is now. As if the secret itself wasn’t bad enough, I’m fucking attached. Like, I’m a stage five clinger. My phone is glued to my hand as often as it can be. I wait with bated breath for the texts, video calls, and time off from doing band stuff. I’m so shady and don’t know why anyone hasn’t noticed.

Well, Phoenix is too busy wanting to stuff his dick up his boyfriend’s ass—Devon and Michael like their alone time away from my neediness. And Kelly is just…Kelly. Independent as they come, that one.

So, maybe it isn’t so farfetched that I haven’t been found out yet. But it’s only a matter of time.

We are finally back home from our European tour, and our plane just landed. I power on my phone, itching to get my fix, needing to send out the text that says I’m home— available. I’m nauseous and excited all at the same time.

God, I can’t wait to see him. He’s been doing so good. I’m super proud.

The seatbelt light clicks off as the plane pulls up to the terminal, and we all stand to grab our shit from the overhead compartments. Phoenix is anxious, chomping at the bit to get off because he’s going straight to Eli. I guess I’m proud of that fucker too. I always knew he had it in him. And my expert and sage advice has nothing to do with experience. No, it’s due to this secret.

Ugh. I’m a terrible, terrible person.

I get in the line of people ready to get off this bitch while Phoenix says something to Kelly behind me, but I can’t focus on that right now. No. I pull up the text thread, and my fingers fly over the keyboard at light speed.

Just landed.

He reads it instantly. God, this is bad. So, so bad.

Oliver: See you soon?

Yup.

I’ll get ready.

I bite back a smile.

For the past year or so, our friendship has become infectious—something more profound than I’d ever thought it’d become. When I wake up, my first thought is to check on Oli. When I go to sleep, I wonder what he’s doing. During the day, I chat with him as much as humanly possible because it’s easy and fun. Most of the time, I feel like a placeholder for people, but with Oli, he makes me feel like the most important person in the whole world. It’s too addicting to give up.

I’m already anticipating how our game will go when I get there.

Fuck I hope I win this time.

Getting your ass kicked at a game you are pretty decent at isn’t cool. Granted, it’s mostly strategy based, but I know how to plan accordingly.

Most of the time.

I hope he lets me get in a good hug, too.

Oli is strange when it comes to being touched. We’ve never talked about why; it’s simply something I’ve noticed in our growing friendship. However, it bothers me that he won’t let me express myself. Being so affectionate and essentially having to sit on my hands is difficult. It’s been three months, though. He’s got to let me hug him now. But even if he doesn’t, I have a feeling he’ll eventually let me squeeze him.

It’s that sad look he gets in his eyes that rips the big ‘ol teddy bear right out of me.

“Move!” Phoenix barks behind me, but I’m too busy deciding what to write back to Oli.

No rats this time.

Because, in my opinion, that deck shouldn’t be allowed ever.

Don’t be a sore loser.

Sore loser, my ass.

His rat deck is impossible to beat! Seriously, he’s got that thing rigged or cursed or something.

That’s another thing I never thought would happen to me—I'm addicted to playing Magic: The Gathering. Sure, I played it a little as a teenager with Phoenix, but never to this capacity. I spend money on this shit now, which reminds me that I need to stop by the card shop soon and get some new creatures. I’m tired of being annihilated by fucking rats.

Just as I’m about to text that, I feel Phoenix creep his face over my shoulder. I shriek, flailing to hide my phone in my chest.

“ Jesus ,” I rasp, my pulse in my fucking throat. “Don’t sneak up on a guy like that.”

“I’m literally right behind you,” he deadpans.

Blowing a raspberry at him, I shove my phone in my pocket while my gut lurches. It feels like I’m abandoning my kid or some shit. I never leave Oli on read. Like…it’s just not done between us. We say bye or see you soon at the end of every text conversation. And because my phone is glued to my forehead when we talk, we don’t have much lag time between replies. It’s making me queasy not replying.

But obviously, I can’t give anything away, especially when Phoenix asks, “Who you texting?”

“Sonia,” I blurt, smothering the wince in my features, and spin to face him. “Excited?” I ask instead. I mean, he must be. Those three months of being separated from Eli were rough on him, and now he’s going to be reunited, writhe in his arms, and profess his love.

I’m kind of jealous.

I can relate to the excited part; although it’s entirely different for obvious reasons.

That being said, I’m confident that Oli and I are coming up on best friend level here. Shit, that feels horrible even to think when my actual best friend is right here, looking at me suspiciously. I force myself not to gulp and grin brightly.

Whatever he thinks he saw vanishes.

“I can’t even describe how excited I am.” He bounces on his heels like a kid about to get unlimited candy.

Must be nice.

I force a laugh and squeeze his shoulder.

As soon as we get off the plane, I rush to the bathroom near the gate to text Oli. He must think I hate him now or that I got offended. Not much offends me because I’m secure in who I am, but Oli is…sensitive. Damn it.

Shoving myself in a stall that’s got half an ass gasket stuck to it, I scrunch up my nose and give the offending toilet my back while I text.

Sorry, bebe. Got stuck getting off the plane.

I’m not a sore loser, though. Just don’t like rats.

Obviously.

I’m sweating as I wait for his reply, scratching the back of my neck nervously.

Bebe? That’s new.

I own four rats. And you love them and give them treats.

Obviously .

What a brat!

And his pet rats do not count. They’re little fluffy squish balls with weird tails, and one of them even kisses me. Turbo is my favorite for that reason. I huff, roll my eyes—relieved he’s not upset—and quickly type.

They don’t multiply and build off each other to destroy my face in one turn.

Sorry about that. Habit.

I won’t call you that. Promise.

Okay.

Well, it’s either the rats or the angel deck.

I groan loudly, and some guy in the next stall laughs. He probably thinks I’m shitting. Great.

Fine. Rats it is. I don’t stand a chance against the angels of doom.

Laugh emoji

Text me when you’re close.

Bye, bebe .

Stop making fun of me. It’s rude.

Bye.

I slink out of the stall and catch up with everyone at the baggage claim. It takes ten million years for our stuff to get down to us, much to my dismay, and by the time Phoenix and I are in an Uber, I’m cursing God for not giving me the ability to teleport. My eagerness to see my friend has me twitching and wiggling in my seat.

There’s something about Oli that just clicks with me. It’s different from my other friends—so simple. Right. Not that it isn’t with Phoenix, but there is a distinction; one I’ve spent months trying to identify.

Since I can’t tell anyone about it, I’ve just waited it out, hoping the answers will come one day. They haven’t yet, but I’ve honestly stopped caring.

Oli is just so unlike what I remember.

When we were all kids, he was just Phoenix’s little brother. Sure, they were thick as thieves, but that didn’t really include me. Even when Oli would tag along with us, I was too wrapped up in being a stupid teenager to give him much thought. Phoenix was my priority when I was around them because he was my best friend, so unfortunately, Oli was in the background.I didn't get to know him like I do now.

There was one day, though.

One day where I knew something changed. I don’t dare ask him about it despite how close we are now. Feels like a line being crossed, you know? But I’ll never forget it.

Before Devon and Kelly joined, Phoenix and I were trying to spread the word about our band. So it was just me, him, and Michael. Anyway, I was putting up janky flyers by the gym locker room. We were seniors at the time, and Oli was a sophomore. I’d been minding my business when I caught him staggering out of the double doors leading to the lockers and showers. He was pale, his hair a little damp. Honestly, he looked like he was really sick.

The flu or whatever.

I remember us glancing at each other. I smiled at him like I usually do, and his eyes dimmed.

No, the light just snuffed right out.

He didn’t say hi to me, and I stood there awkwardly while he staggered away. Now that we are such good friends, I regret not stopping him. Or, at the very least, bringing it up with anyone. But I was eighteen and focused on getting people to show up to our little garage concert.

I should’ve asked, though. I should’ve made sure he was okay.

The Uber driver turns on my street, and I prepare to launch. Phoenix seems off in his own world, probably daydreaming about Eli’s penis. I haven’t gotten laid in forever. It feels kind of pathetic, but I've made my peace with it. The sex will come when it’s meant to or when I get the motivation to flirt with someone.

When the car stops, my adrenaline shoots through the roof.

God, I’m so ready to see my friend.

I lean over, smack a big ‘ol kiss on Phoenix’s cheek, and blurt, “I love you!” And then I’m out of the car, grabbing my shit, and jogging into my house.

S nacks? Check.

Cards? Check.

Cell phone in case Phoenix needs me? Check.

For once, I hope he doesn’t need me…at least not for a few hours.

Despite loving a good hero moment, I selfishly don’t want to be interrupted. In the past, I’d be almost willing it into the universe because I love being needed and wanted.

That need is being fulfilled currently, and for once, I want that feeling to last more than a small period of time.

I want it to last forever.

Oliver’s place is a tiny studio disguised as a house in the back of a duplex thing. Not sure how else to describe it. I’m not a house person.

The paint is old and crusty, and the rain gutter is warped and hanging from the roof, but it’s all he could afford once he got clean. Not that I’d ever judge him for it.

I wiggle through the overgrown palms lining the short walkway to his front door, shuffling the bags in my hands and keeping my box of cards wedged under my arm.

Maybe I shouldn’t have brought so much. How am I supposed to tackle him into a hug?

Damn it. Now I’m sad.

My heart hurts because I really wanted to hug him—just yank him into my arms and squeeze the living fuck out of him. I don’t think anyone does that for him anymore…

Get it together, man.

I knock on the door with the tip of my shoe, endless flutters in my belly. My nose tingles, the telltale sign that I’m getting too emotionally worked up, so I try to slurp them back inside. It’s always been a problem for me, I swear.

Oli opens the door, and I smile through the water forming in my eyes because he looks even better than the last time I saw him. His neatly trimmed blond beard hugs his square jaw, and his hair is longer and pulled into a low ponytail. His clothes are clean and new.

Fuck, he's beautiful.

“Hi!” he says excitedly, smiling big and bright, and backs up so I can get through the threshold.

“Sorry, it took forever. The baggage claim was ass, and then I had to shower because I smelled like airplane, and then there was traffic,” I ramble, setting all my stuff down on the old coffee table that doubles as his dining table.

It smells like him in here. It’s so familiar that I can’t help but take a greedy inhale before facing him.

It smells like home.

Oliver’s green eyes sparkle in amusement. My heart lurches seeing him in the flesh again. I really missed the dude—missed him so fucking much.

As my fingers twitch and the stupid smile on my face brightens, probably making me look like the Joker, I take a step forward. Oh, it’s happening one way or another. I need to get my hands on him.

“Jorge,” he warns.

“Come on! It’s been three months,” I whine, still creeping closer.

“Don’t even try it. Remember last time?”

I scoff, another step. Then another. “Just let me do it. If I get it out of my system, we can get into the game and forget all about it.”

He swallows, backing away. “I won’t.”

“It’s not that bad. I even put on deodorant!”

His dirty blond hair shakes with the jerk of his head, some strands slipping free. “It’s not that.”

I crouch, my intent clear, and he yelps when I lunge.

My fingers barely graze the back of his tight black shirt as he dives for the couch, leaping over it with speed. I growl, chasing him around the tiny studio, nearly crashing into the rats’ cage beside his bed. He barrel rolls over it while I wince, pausing to apologize to his rats.

“Sorry, bebes,” I coo and then go for him again.

Oli ducks out of my grasp, slamming the door as he hides in the bathroom. “Not happening!” he calls through the thin wood, and I thunk my forehead against it.

“One day, Oliver, mark my words.”

“I don’t like hugs,” he insists.

“That’s because you haven’t had one of mine .” I sigh, defeated once again.

Only once did I almost hug him, and he threw me to the floor like some fuckin’ ninja. We laughed, but there was this pinched expression behind his smile.

Maybe he thinks I want his dick.

I do not.

That’s not what it is. I’m just a physical person, so you can blame my abuela. She gave me so much love and affection that I expected everyone to do the same. Huffing, I concede and back away from the door.

“Alright. I’m done. The moment has passed,” I say with dramatic flair.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

The door creaks open, a single eyeball visible through the sliver. I hold up my hands in surrender. He comes out and offers me a tiny smile, then gestures to his enormous card hoard. I mean…it’s massive.

“I got some new ones while you were gone,” he admits shyly. “Sorry in advance.”

“Motherfucker,” I groan. “Let me guess. More devil rats.”

Smirking, he tucks his hands in his pockets and shrugs. “You know how I get. And some of them are even holographic. Nearly blew my whole paycheck.”

Oliver may be in recovery and has been sober for almost a year, but he still struggles with addictive tendencies.

First, it was the gym, and let me tell you , that sucked having to keep up with him. Oli is a damn beast when he wants to be. Several times, he had to peel me off the floor. Not that he’d ever touched me like that, but he’d been sweet and talked me through moving my arms and legs again.

When he realized he was going too often and didn’t want to be some giant bodybuilder, he eased off the gym and rediscovered his love for Magic: The Gathering. This is his current addiction, and if I don’t keep it in check, he’ll go broke buying every fun card he sees. Eventually, he’ll latch on to something else because he’s restless and needs to be distracted.

“Well, I’m here now, so I won’t let you go into debt over a card game.”

He nods along, then goes over all his new cards with me.

Twenty minutes later, we take up our spot on the floor by the rats. Our first few games were sitting around his coffee table, but I kept getting distracted by the little grabby hands reaching for snacks on the other side of the room. The rats are by his bed in the back corner. So now, I take my place with my back against the wall to offer goodies to his fur babies, and he sits against the side of his bed.

He pulls the game mat from under his bed, flattening it between us. And for the next two hours, I get destroyed.

I spent copious amounts of time trying to make my deck specifically to take his down, but he’d apparently added new cards and ruined my strategy.

“Can we just make a rule that I won’t play the green deck if you don’t play the rats?” I ask when we pack up our cards.

“But it’s so much fun watching you squirm,” he says through a cheeky grin.

This is my favorite part about the game: seeing him light up like this. His happiness means I did a good job, that I’m bringing him joy when his world was dampened by darkness before. I nibble my lip, chest squeezing, and let him have this. He needs this joy more than I do.

“Fine. But I’m adding giant growth to my deck.”

“Alright.”

“Four of them.”

His eyes widen. “That’d be an unfair advantage. The odds of you getting one go up, and then—”

“It’s either that or we veto the rats.” I hold firm this time.

He thinks about it, really not wanting to give up his favorite deck to play with. “Fine.”

I beam at him, fluttering my eyelashes, and Oli… blushes.

Like, that is a fucking blush. His cheeks are bright pink!

“Are you blushing?”

“No,” he says quickly and clears his throat.

“You totally are.”

“It’s hot in here,” he argues, getting up and opening the single window. “Better already.”

What a filthy little liar.

“If you say so,” I purr and waggle my eyebrows at him.

“Shut up. What movie do you want to watch?”

I tap my chin as if I’m debating it, but we both say at the same time, “Twin Towers.”

God, it feels so fucking good to be back.

Back with my friend.

Back with my Oli.