Travis
Really? Can I just have a night with J without the super-jock twins?
I love my best friend. I do. And it’s totally fine that he’s dating Garrison Dixon. It is. I mean, he’s happy. I’m happy for him.
But when he invited me for dinner, my first instinct was to say Hell no. Because his boyfriend and his boyfriend’s best friend are everything I despise.
They’re the epitome of the small town we grew up in. Of everything I wanted to escape. They’re all about big, loud trucks, football, whiskey, and hootin’ and hollerin’. They’re both proud of where they’re from, despite it being a place that’ll likely never fully accept Dixon and Bates together.
Who’ll pray for their souls and gossip behind their backs. Simply because they’re two men who fell in love.
I had huge dreams. I was getting the hell out of Kensley and out of Kansas altogether. I was going to college on the West Coast. To have a great career and never look back. But it was completely insane to think that could happen.
To think a big Ivy League school would want a small-town kid like me. Yeah, I’m Kensley smart, there’s no denying that. But I was fooling myself, thinking I could compete in the real world.
I didn’t get my scholarship.
And my parents wouldn’t pay for college. So now, here I am. In another small town, which people around here consider a big town because it has its own movie theater. I work landscaping with friends from high school and live in a studio apartment above a downtown bar.
I’m a total cliché.
A bitter, small-town kid, stuck in the middle of nowhere with no hope of anything changing anytime soon.
I stare at my phone one last time, reading the message from Ryan. I won’t say yes to him because what do I have to offer?
Instead, I just tuck my phone back in my pocket and ring Jameson and Garrison’s doorbell. Not surprisingly, it’s Oakley who opens the door. He at least appears to have showered after our shift at work. His hair is still wet, and he’s wearing a clean t-shirt and jeans.
“Well, if it isn’t my new best friend.”
I roll my eyes, pushing past his bigass body and walking into the house. J looks over at me in silent apology as he makes his way across the room. “Hey, glad you made it. The grill’s going.”
“Please tell me there’s at least some salad,” I say, not really a meat-eater to the horror of my steak-loving dad.
“Of course,” J says kindly.
But then I hear Oakley’s booming voice behind me. “I grabbed you some green stuff, Wyatt. Don’t you worry.”
I fight the need to roll my eyes again as I spin around to look at him. “Oakley, we graduated from high school.” I point to him. “Some of us by a miracle.” He raises his middle finger, but I continue, “We can use each other’s first names now. We aren’t playing football anymore.”
“Oh, come on, Wyatt. Don’t you miss it even a little?” It doesn’t surprise me that he’s ignored me and called me by my last name yet again.
“It’s Travis, and no, I don’t.” Not really. I loved getting exercise and running on the field, but I didn’t have a love for the game like most of my teammates. It was just something to do. That was all.
The doorbell rings again, and Jameson walks to the door to get it. “Notice how everyone else knows how to use the damn doorbell?” he asks Oakley on the way, and I have no doubt it’s because he’s still barging in all the time.
Oakley just chuckles at that and elbows me in the side. “He’s just pissed because he’s got a killer case of blue balls.”
“Whose fault is that?” Jameson asks as he yanks the door open. His younger brother, Adam, and his best friend, Zachary, are at the door.
He greets them and drags them inside.
“You guys aren’t missing practice to be here, are you?” Oakley actually seems concerned.
Adam answers, “Nah. We have practice tomorrow though.”
Zach nods quietly. He’s always quiet, that one. I don’t blame him. He had a pretty public breakup not too long ago. His girlfriend really gave it to him, screaming at him in front of everyone at school and talking about him as often as she could.
Can’t really blame her though. It sounds like he really hurt the girl. Not physically of course, but he broke her heart.
It doesn’t seem like him though.
But Kensley gossip is none of my damn business, and I’m not spending another moment thinking about it. I refuse to.
We all head out back to the patio, where they have a new table and what even appears to be new dishes set out.
“You two are so fucking domestic now,” Oakley says, wrapping his meaty arm around Garrison’s neck. “I fucking love it.”
“You do know fucking isn’t actually an adjective, right?” I ask as I settle in my seat next to J.
“Bullshit. It’s the best adjective and verb ever,” he shoots back, taking the spot directly across from me.
“Oh, look at you. You could pass second-grade English.”
Again with the middle finger. He raises it proudly as Garrison lays a big fat steak on the plate in front of him. “Oakley, fill your face.” Garrison pats his shoulder, and Oakley chuckles happily, totally in his element.
He’s always been the loud one, the life of the damn party. The obnoxious kid who had to get the laugh in school. The player who had to make the biggest plays during the games. He’s a show-off.
And he drives me insane.
Always has. Always will.
Because I couldn’t fucking escape.
“So is it true about Coach?” Oakley asks in the direction of Zachary and Adam through a massive bite of steak.
“That he’s stuck with a Big Bend assistant coach?” Adam guesses.
“Yeah. That’s fucking bullshit,” Oakley says, swallowing the gigantic bite.
Zach just shrugs. “It’s not so bad. Coach Leighton knows what he’s talking about.”
All eyes are on Zach now, most of them in horror because Big Bend is Kensley’s biggest rival. And what Zach just said is blasphemy.
I’ve heard the gossip about the Big Bend coach moving to Kensley, but I couldn’t care less and decide to add in, “He’s an assistant coach who needed a job. I’m sure Coach is happy to have the help.”
Now the eyes that were on Zach are on me. “No way Coach is happy,” Oakley says, his voice firm.
“Why do you care?” I have to ask. I know why though. Oakley was the king of high school, and he misses it. He might not actually admit it, but he does.
“Why don’t you care?” he shoots back, and I stare at him, glaring really.
“So how was the drive here?” Jameson asks Adam and Zach, no doubt trying to change the subject, and it works because they go on talking.
But my mind is stuck on how little I care about high school, other than how badly I screwed up my life.
Because this is my damn life now.