6. Dylan
SIX
DYLAN
I start to notice things.
Little things.
Weird things.
Things I haven’t noticed before, or if I have, haven’t registered as something noteworthy.
All of a sudden, they are.
All of a sudden there’s something .
All of a sudden everything about that something is important.
We’re playing soccer, and Adrian wipes his face with the hem of his shirt. There’s skin. Bronze skin from hours spent outside over the endless days of summer.
My eyes lock on those inches of sun-kissed flesh between the waistband of Adrian’s shorts and the raised shirt.
And my mouth goes dry .
I jog to the side of the field, get the water bottle, and take a long drink.
It doesn’t help.
I drink some more.
The bare skin is still there.
My mouth is still dry.
Even chugging the water doesn’t seem to work.
I’m parched for the rest of the game.
And ready to die from dehydration when we call time and Adrian whips his shirt over his head to cool off.
We go to the movies. Me. Adrian. Emma. Emma’s friend Josie.
It’s something with aliens.
We take our seats.
Adrian next to me.
We share a bucket of popcorn, and a cup of soda.
And the whole time, his arm is pressed against mine on the armrest, and I’m aware that it’s there.
The warm skin.
The soft hairs on his forearm.
I’m aware .
My eyes are locked on the screen, but I have no idea what’s happening on there.
Because of Adrian’s arm against mine.
He absently scratches the skin just below his earlobe.
I swear I can hear his pulse steadily beating in his neck.
I want to lick it.
I want to taste his heartbeat.
And then I want to run.
Fall days are long and sunny. People look up toward the sky and shake their heads. “This won’t last,” they say with a grim tone to their voices.
But it does.
“Second summer.” Adrian’s mom smiles.
Adrian goes on another date with Emma, but then he no longer talks about her at all, and the knot in my stomach untangles.
School gets busy, but we still have the weekends. Nina and Preston buy a yacht and take up sailing. Nina invites me to go with them every now and then. I usually find excuses not to. With them gone so much, I’m free as a bird to do whatever I want.
Will loses a bet to Adrian, and he cashes in by having him become our personal driver, so now we can venture farther away from home to go on hikes or bike rides.
It’s the smallest thing.
We go camping for the weekend with the whole family. Lots of tents and lots of supplies in the back of the minivan and the ancient Ford Will bought himself when he got his license.
We rent kayaks and go out on the bay.
Everything is business as usual.
Normal.
Only.
Only.
Adrian flips his kayak.
I laugh so hard I nearly flip mine as well when his head pops out of the water, and he wipes his hair off his face with a dismayed look. We head back to shore after that.
Everybody else has scattered, so it’s just the two of us.
He pulls his wet shirt over his head.
My eyes get stuck.
It’s the smallest things.
The smattering of blond hair on his chest.
The granite-hard cut of his abdominal muscles.
The droplets of water running down his happy trail into the waistband of his soaked sweats.
He says something, but I can’t hear through the buzzing in my ears. He turns around, revealing the wide planes of his back as he starts to take off his pants. The muscles of his thighs tighten and relax as he hops around on one foot to get the wet pants off.
My skin is suddenly on fire. Goosebumps. A tingling sensation spreading through my limbs. Everything else feels hazy, but Adrian is in sharp focus.
My body hums.
There’s not enough air.
My heartbeat won’t settle. It drums harder and louder, echoes against my throat, as if trying to climb out of me.
The muscles of my thighs tense.
“Earth to Dylan.”
I jerk my gaze up from his chest.
“Can you get me some clothes?” Adrian asks. “I’m freezing my balls off.”
I swallow.
My breathing stutters—too fast, too shallow.
“What?” I croak. Clear my throat. Course correct. “Yeah. Right away.”
Adrian frowns. “You okay?”
He takes a step toward me.
He and his bare chest and thick thighs and rock-hard abdominal muscles and when did he get those?
Oh my fucking God!
“I’m fine!” I say—shout—so loudly a couple of birds take flight in the trees.
Adrian sends me another weird look and comes even closer. “Are you?”
I can feel the heat of his skin.
“Perfectly marvelous,” I blurt. “I’m now going to acquire you those clothes you were requesting.”
My throat is too dry, and my heartbeat is too loud.
Adrian is still staring at me.
Adrian and his sculpted pecs and round ass.
Oh my fucking God!
Horror and mortification bubble in my gut because I’m looking at Adrian. And I’m getting hard.
“I’ll go get you those clothes,” I squeak, whirl around, and start to head toward the tent.
I take one more quick look over my shoulder.
Adrian hooks his fingers between the waistband of his underwear.
Oh my fucking God!
I trip over a tree trunk that lies on my way, and I land face first into the water.
“Dyl?” Adrian comes running to the rescue.
I sit in the water and push my wet hair out of my face.
Watch with wide eyes and erratic heart.
Adrian.
Running and naked.
I’ve been a walking panic attack ever since.
I dream of him.
I wake up in the middle of the night with images of Adrian dancing in front of my eyes.
His fingertips sinking into my aching flesh.
His lips on my lips.
His tongue drawing patterns on my skin.
My heart is pounding like I’ve been running at full speed.
Ghosts of dreams cling to me, hot and insistent.
My skin flushed and damp with sweat, sheets twisted tight around my legs.
Aching for something I know I shouldn’t want.
Can’t have.
My stomach drops hard, and I want to disappear. The weight of shame presses down on me, sharp and suffocating.
What the hell is wrong with me?
It’s Adrian.
It’s wrong.
I’m on edge for days and days and days.
My body craves for relief. My mind rebels and refuses to give in.
He touches me, and it burns. It leaves an invisible mark on my skin that I can feel for hours, and that comes back to haunt me at night.
I clutch the sheets and fight myself. I’m exhausted with the effort to resist.
My resolve crumbles.
It’s inevitable.
I surrender.
I cave.
I yield.
In the darkness of the night, I come with Adrian’s name an exhale and a sob of relief.
My chest heaves.
My mind is a mess.
What the hell is wrong with me?
It’ll pass.
I’m sure of it.
Because it’s Adrian.
Adrian.
My Adrian.
I’m just…
It’ll pass!
I think I’m sick. It’s the flu or something. It certainly feels like it at times. All sweaty and dizzy and hot and cold. Heartbeat in my throat and hands shaking. Weeks of this.
I buy one of those at-home flu tests.
It comes back negative, but what does a piece of plastic know anyway?
I have to just be responsible and self-isolate for a bit. At least until the symptoms pass. It’s the responsible thing to do.
Breathe, Dylan.
It’ll pass.