Chapter 27
Kit
Ben: I had fun last night. We should definitely hang again some time…soon?
I would rather stick my tongue in a beehive.
His message is followed up with a picture of him and Mr. Floppy Sock, his ferret. It’s the white ferret. His first one that made him fall in love with the smelly, noodle cats. His words.
I’m being melodramatic. There was nothing wrong with Ben.
He was perfectly nice. He held the door open for me when we got to the movies.
He had an easy laugh and asked me questions about myself.
He’s animated when he talks about his love for Mr. Floppy Sock and Mr. Squiggly Worm.
Yep. He’s shy when he tries to flirt. He’s a little taller than my five-foot-seven, and all lanky limbs.
But he’s cute and nice. Nice and gay. He’s seeking me out. Obviously interested.
Me: Sure!
I roll my eyes at myself and put my phone down on the porch next to me. We’re well into summer, and I’m being a brat. We would normally be in the lake by now. Brett splashing Bowen repeatedly until Bowen picked him up and tossed him into the water, Brett howling with glee the whole time.
Apparently, getting older does indeed suck real bad.
Not a good suck, either. My mom being a teacher and my dad being able to work from his computer always made it easy for us to be able to spend summers away.
Sheila would take a couple weeks off to spend with us but then leave the boys during the week and meet us back on the weekends. It was perfect.
Now we are fresh high school grads. We have jobs. I work at Crazy Beans Cafe, making all the fancy, complicated drinks people love to order. That’s where I met Ben.
Brett works as a lifeguard at the rec center’s pool.
Bowen is in full training mode for his upcoming football season with his fancy scholarship.
Not that he told me that. He doesn’t tell me much of anything anymore.
If he’s not training or at the gym, he’s with Delaney.
Or Tucker. If he’s not with one of them or training, I couldn’t tell you what he’s doing, but it's certainly not spending time with me.
Brett has his own life, too. With Amy. She’s petite and feisty, really gives Brett competition to see who can be the most obnoxious. I love them as a couple. Brett’s light seemed to dim a little there for a while, but when Amy is around, it's as bright and glaring as the summer sun.
Love that for him. Love it so much I want to walk directly into traffic when they’re around.
Again, I’m being a brat. I’m well aware.
We’ll blame it on growing pains, okay? Because this shit is dumb.
I’d sell both kidneys if I could be transported back to the summer we were like…
twelve. I’d tie myself to Bowen the whole summer if it meant I could live in that bubble of happiness all over again.
Before life got messy. Before I became a selfish brat who thought it was perfectly normal to be a baby about unrequited feelings.
The rumble of Bowen’s motorcycle cuts through the lazy afternoon buzz, and I hate how quickly I look up. I’d be able to pick his bike out with my eyes closed. It’s a bit louder than the others on the street. A bit cockier. Like its rider.
One would think after years of exposure, it would be easier to see them together, but it’s not.
It aches just as bad today, seeing Delaney touching him.
Which she very much is doing, nestled behind him on his bike, arms wrapped around his waist in a claim she’s allowed to make.
My chest twists and twists. Not just from seeing them together but because Bowen doesn’t wave. Doesn’t give even a head nod. Nothing.
I know he saw me. I know he did.
But that’s where we’re at, folks. Nothing.
Where we once gravitated together like moths to a flame, we’ve completely fallen out of orbit. Somehow, he’s standing just fine while I’m floundering bad.
His motorcycle is still echoing down the street when Brett’s beat-up Jeep pulls into my driveway instead of his own. At least Brett sees me.
“You should have mooned him,” Brett says, plopping down next to me with a sigh. He’s sunburned and reeks of chlorine and sunscreen. “Real power move.”
I snort. “Maybe next time.”
“Gotta make him regret leaving us for someone who wears fake tan and strawberry lip-gloss.”
“What's wrong with strawberry lip gloss and fake tan?”
“Dude. Whose side are you on right now?”
I roll my eyes, but it's easier to breathe with him sitting beside me. Brett is my only tether to earth now. Without him, I would be thoroughly lost in space.
“So,” he says, nudging my shoulder. I look over in time to see his eyebrows wiggle. “How was the date with Ben? Did he bring his ferrets with him? I bet he did. Leashes and sweaters, right? He made you get your own popcorn because he had to share with his Floppy Noodle Dick and Smelly Cat Worm.”
“God, why do I tell you anything?” I can’t help but laugh, and his face goes soft.
“Fuck, Kat-boy, I missed that sound.” He roves his blue eyes over my face and then looks away. “It hasn’t been the same, huh?”
There’s really no sense in denying it. Nothing has been the same, not for a long time. Our demise was cemented the moment I looked at Bowen, and my heart decided he was it for me.
I just shrug.
“Don’t do that, dude. Not with me.” Brett scrubs his hands over his face and sighs again. “He’s being a dick, and I fucking hate him for it.”
“Don’t say that, Brett.”
“I’ll say it to his face. Have said it to his face. I’ve never met a more emotionally guarded moron in my life. I love him to death, but fuck is he stupid.”
“He didn’t do anything.”
“That’s the problem! He didn’t do anything. Just allowed it all to go to shit.”
“It wasn’t his to fix, Brett. He didn’t ask me to have feelings for him.
I created this.” My voice cracks with the admission, and I look away, off in the direction Bowen drove away just a few minutes ago.
I hate that my heart is begging for him to come back.
To be the Bowen he used to be and fix it.
Fix all of it. To brush my too-long hair out of my eyes.
To bump his shoulder against mine, quiet as we both listen to Brett go on and on about how cute his girlfriend is.
I’d take him tiptoeing around my flustered feelings like it started over this.
If I could go back and tell thirteen-year-old me anything, I would tell him to grow up and accept Bowen’s love in the way he could give it, because having it taken away completely?
I don’t know if I’ll ever fully recover.
Certainly doesn’t feel like it now. All I can hope is that in a few years, this will be an old scar that barely registers when poked.
And it will be poked. I get to see him in Brett every time I look at him.
“This is probably for the best, anyway. We had to grow up sometime, right? Couldn’t all be attached at the hip forever.”
Brett is quiet. Something he is more often now. I hate that, too. Like he has to choose his words carefully now instead of blurting out whatever feels right, like he used to. Like he has to be a watered-down version of himself for me.
Hate. It.
But it’s something else I can’t fix. Something that evolved over years of me being soft and sensitive. Years of me telling them I was strong and then proving how fragile I actually am. Being a selfish, broken brat. So, yeah.
The mess I created. How fun.
“Wanna have a sleepover?”
I blink. That’s not at all what I expected to come after the silence. But Brett’s face slowly breaks into a devastating, dazzling smile that warms his eyes. “Yeah. Fuck, yeah, Kat-boy. That’s exactly what we need. The attic. Too many snacks. Shrek.”
“Brett…”
But he’s already hopping up off the porch, smiling and holding his hands over his ears.
“Don’t wanna hear it, Kit. We’re having a sleep.
Over.” He jogs back to his Jeep but stops and yells, “Be there, or I’ll come over here and Kat-nap you, Kit Meyer.
Right in front of your parents—and you know I will.
” He goes to get in, but yells over his shoulder, “And wear those PJ pants I got you with my face on the crotch!”