9. Mornings After
Mornings After
Max Stevens and two of his older skate friends lay passed out in Bridger’s sporty bedroom with skate posters on the wall and used clothes scattered across the floor.
Boozy drool leaked from Max’s open mouth as he snored.
Crushed beer cans littered the carpet. Bridger groaned as he woke, rolling over in his bed.
His head was banging worse than his first skate crash.
Fuck. Last night.
Bridger struggled to get his feet out from his covers. He stepped past his conked-out friends and walked to his family bathroom.
As Bridger showered to wash off all the sweat, smoke, and dirt from the bonfire of just a few hours ago, all the memories of what transpired pitter-pattered back into his brain: the wild stories, the drinks, the girls, Gus—
Gus. Fuck… Bridger let his head sink under the shower’s stream. Shit. Why’d I say all that? Why’d he ask so much? Why does he care so much what I think? Why’d he look at me like… that?
Bridger’s breathing quickened with worry as he shut the water off and ripped the shower curtain open. He wiped the foggy mirror above the sink to see himself for the first time that morning. He stood naked, dripping wet, breathing heavily. He was hungover and stressed.
I almost…
Shit.
Bridger’s eyes narrowed at his reflection, forcing himself to see reason.
I was drunk! That’s why it was weird. He’s a dude.
I don’t like dudes. Bridger stared back at his own face, confused.
Gus’s joking about him not getting any ideas flashed back into his mind.
Bridger shook his head. Locking lips with Gus by that bonfire would have been insane.
Gus would have had that cute, dumb, surprised look he always had.
Bridger scoffed. He couldn’t resist a smile forming, imagining how funny it would have been to kiss Gus.
His little blue eyes, his woody smell, his taste…
Bridger caught his own mistaken smirk. Fuck. He glared in the mirror. No… Who gives a shit? Nothing’s gonna happen. Gus isn’t like the other guys. He’s different… but whatever. Doesn’t mean I’m different. He always—
“Dude! Let me in!” Max pounded on the bathroom door. “I gotta piss!”
Bridger flinched.
“Almost done, man!” Bridger sputtered in stress. “I’m—”
Max pushed the door open. Bridger jumped back in shock and wrapped a towel around his naked waist.
“Hey! I’m not ready ye—”
Max barged past Bridger holding a half-empty Hamm’s. He spit into the toilet, unzipped his pants, and started to urinate right next to his friend.
Bridger recoiled. “Dude. What the fuck?!”
Max chuckled as Bridger averted his gaze from his crotch just in time—only to get a full view of Max’s ass in the mirror as he peed. Bridger tightened up from the uncomfortable intrusion.
“The bitches were all over me last night,” Max gloated.
Bridger stood awkwardly as Max glanced over at him with a devilish grin. He looked away from the mirror.
Max’s smile dropped, his pupils dilating as he eyed down Bridger’s backside in the loose towel.
“We gotta leave soon or my parents will freak,” Bridger said.
Max came back to himself. “Sure, I’ll hose off quick, dude.”
Bridger exited the bathroom and closed the door.
Max was left alone. His pants were still unzipped.
He could hear Bridger shaking his friends awake, but Max didn’t speed up.
Still hungover, Max crept toward the mirror, off-balance.
He noticed Bridger’s toothbrush near the sink, inspected it, and grew antsy for a prank.
He poured his leftover beer over the bristles and brushed his own teeth with Bridger’s toothbrush, chuckling to himself.
Max’s slow drunken gaze clocked Bridger’s dirty clothes on the bathroom floor as he returned Bridger’s toothbrush.
His friend’s used boxers topped the little heap.
Max stiffened. He looked back at himself in the mirror with hesitation.
Fuck! Max twisted away and turned on the shower.
He slowly leered back at Bridger’s dirty underwear again. Fuck…
Max pulled off his shirt and cracked his neck, thinking.
He dropped his shirt and it hit the floor right next to Bridger’s pile of dirty clothes.
Max breathed groggily as one hand reached into his own pants and his other stretched down and scooped up Bridger’s used boxers.
He slowly lifted the underwear to his face and took a deep, slow whiff.
Fuck.
~
After waking up in the forest with no other partygoers around, Gus had to find his own way back to his dad’s car and drive himself home. So many questions ping-ponged around his brain as he rode back down the rural roads. He was furious and growing more overwhelmed with each passing mile.
Did he really just leave me in the forest all alone? Who does that?
We didn’t even do anything…
Maybe it’s my fault? Did I ask him too much?
There’s no way he actually would have kissed me.
But he almost did…
The blaring sun beat down as Gus parked in his father’s driveway and walked toward the cabin, still stuck in his own head. However, as he passed the woodshop, Dan stepped out from the barn door.
“Where’ve you been?” Dan asked his son with a straight face.
Gus cringed and turned back around. Crap.
“Just out for a morning drive,” Gus fibbed.
“Don’t lie to me.” Dan crossed his arms. “We said no more secrets.”
Gus sighed. He couldn’t tell his dad everything, not when he’d freak so easily.
“I went to a bonfire,” Gus half-shared. “With Bridger’s friends. It was chill.”
Dan waited for Gus to elaborate more. Gus didn’t. Father and son stared at each other. Dan looked disappointed. Gus knew that look well. He was disappointed in himself, too.
“Did you drink?” Dan probed.
“…Only a little,” Gus settled on, hoping his dad would buy it.
“You’re underage.”
Gus laughed lightly. “Yeah, but—”
“You could have crashed driving back.”
“But I didn’t.”
“Gus.” Dan shook his head. “I raised you better than this.”
Gus jutted his chin up, angry now. Is he joking?
“You didn’t raise me.” Gus gave a dejected glare back. “Mom did.”
These words halted Dan. He nodded with regret and slight contempt. He took a step back and moved his hands to hook them into his belt, frustration pouring in fast.
Gus looked away, irritated. He just wanted to be alone to think.
“I should have,” Dan relented when Gus began walking away. “I should have helped out more.”
Gus glanced back at that admission. However, his father’s upset grimace still remained.
“You’re smarter than this, Gus.”
“I know.”
Dan gestured to how disheveled Gus looked. “Go clean up.”
“Fine,” Gus agreed.
Gus turned and walked up the porch stairs of their cabin. He opened the door.
“Hey,” Dan called out before Gus stepped inside.
The boy looked back at his father standing alone out in their front yard.
“I’m glad you’re safe,” Dan said quietly.
Gus nodded without a care and walked inside. He should have said something back, but he didn’t.
In the bathroom, Gus pulled off his smoky shirt and his jeans stained with wet grass and dirty charcoal.
He showered under steaming hot water, attempting to wash his preoccupied misgivings away.
Gus then lay down in bed and stared mindlessly at his ceiling.
Since it was already midday, his usually twinkling lights above him were turned off.
Without the small bulbs glowing beautifully, the long wrangling cords just looked like green snakes constricting the rafters above him.
Gus felt squeezed and ensnared in his own head, too.
I’ve never felt this way about anyone before… any guy.
I want to kiss him… do more.
Gus turned from his wooden ceiling to the bedside trunk where his sketchbook sat.
The thin box of colored pencils Bridger told him to use for his portrait lay on top.
Gus grabbed both objects. He was tempted to sketch Bridger a thousand different ways, unable to stop seeing Bridger’s face and all its minute expressions that were permanently etched into his mind after last night.
However, Gus decided to use his colored pencils to document just one moment.
The moment before Bridger leaned in to kiss him.
He was going to kiss me, right?
An hour later, as the close-up tipsy smile, red lips, swooping hair, and piercing deep amber eyes of Bridger took shape on Gus’s page, Gus fell into his normal flow, wishing for what could never be.
He imagined various scenarios of how last night could have gone.
Right here in his sketchbook, Gus could make them all happen.
But as Gus added in the final golden reflections from the bonfire on Bridger’s dashing face, the fantasy of the moment lost its spark of potential.
Why can’t this be real?
I want Bridger to look at me like this again… for real.
I shoulda just kissed him first! Been brave!
Gus let his head fall back, staring again at the strangled rafters.
But… I’d rather have him as a friend than nothing at all.
I can’t scare him away. I have to be normal.
Last night didn’t happen. I gotta forget it.
Gus peered down at the fictionally perfect Bridger before him. He smiled faintly but closed his sketchbook.
I gotta talk to him.
Gus placed his sketchbook back on the wooden trunk beside his bed and put on fresh clothes. He picked up his board from the corner of his room and dashed down the stairs.
Gus drove out to McNair Skatepark and, as he pulled into the gravel parking lot, immediately scanned the area for Bridger. His friend wasn’t there.
He got out of the car and walked around.
He has to be here somewhere.
Gus scratched his head as he traversed the whole length of the park. The only people there right now were the cigarette girls sitting in their normal spot at the highest concrete bowl. Gus realized he was right now no different than the groupie girls, waiting around for the skate boys. He sighed.
Maybe he’ll call the cabin. We can talk about what happened. Or not talk about it.
Then, like a storm cloud, Max’s crew rolled up in a blue pickup truck. About five or six guys jumped out of the trunk.
Bridger was with them.
Shoot.
Gus retreated off the concrete near the picnic table by the south bowl. The boys rushed to the center of the park, Bridger at the rear and chipper as ever. Gus leaned in to try and overhear the skate guys as they stepped onto the pavement.
“I got with Kelly, Coop got with Rachel, and Bridger says he was up all night with Sophia. The one with HUGE tits,” Max announced.
All the boys’ jaws dropped in amazement as some of them uttered encouraging grunts, punched Bridger in the arm, or thrust their hips and laughed.
“Let’s just say… I had a great night,” Bridger bragged.
The guys all dapped him up, and Bridger glowed with pride.
Gus, eavesdropping from afar, shook his head.
He left me alone in the woods… for a girl?
The skaters all separated, dropping their boards and starting their various runs. Bridger, however, tucked his board under his arm and twisted in Gus’s direction to use the water fountain.
Shit. Gus ducked and tried to hide, but Bridger had spotted him. The skater’s gloating smirk faded. He ignored Gus and turned away from him to drink.
Just go talk to him.
And say what? Nice almost-kiss?
Gus shook his head. He and Bridger were friends. Last night, that was… nothing.
Gus stepped up to Bridger gingerly.
“Hey. Are you okay?” Gus asked. “I woke up this morning and didn’t know where you went.”
“Yeah. Sorry. I woke up to take a piss. Max found me and I had to bolt,” Bridger replied.
“Okay…” Gus said. “Are… we good?”
“Yeah, man! No stress,” Bridger assured him.
Gus nodded, but Bridger’s smile felt different.
“So… did you really hook up with Sophia after I fell asleep?” Gus inquired.
Bridger’s eyebrows raised, then his gaze narrowed. He paused for a moment. Bridger looked back at the guys to make sure they weren’t close enough to hear their conversation.
“No. Alright?” Bridger gritted his teeth to whisper at Gus. “But I didn’t want the guys asking questions about why I was still in the forest with you the whole night. So I lied to get them off my case.”
The isolating shame of those first days at the park flashed back to Gus. His skin went hot. “Oh. Okay… fine,” he replied.
Bridger sighed with regret as Gus’s face fell.
“Look,” Bridger explained, “I just can’t let the guys get the wrong impression of you and me.”
“And what impression would that be?” Gus questioned, leaning his head closer.
Bridger opened his mouth to mention something but then stopped himself.
Gus knew what he didn’t want to admit. He shifted awkwardly on his feet waiting for Bridger to say something. Does he not want to hang out with me anymore?
But then Bridger took a deep breath and shared a forced small grin.
“It doesn’t matter.” Bridger pushed hair out of his face. “I don’t want to think about it anymore. I just want to unwind.”
Gus nodded. He took a step back and peered around, his eyes falling on the small lake across the park.
“Me too,” Gus said. “And… I think I know a good place.”
Bridger raised his eyebrows and tilted his head in curiosity. This time, he smiled wide.