I’m starting to think he’s, like, a ghost or something. Or a figment of my imagination, created out of extreme loneliness. I created a cute gamer guy because he’s, like, my dream friend.
Who has no social media?
I know it’s hard to find someone if you don’t know their last name. But still, how can he not be friends with anyone I know?
It’s probably for the best, though. I’m officially thinking about him too much. Having access to his social media would just push things over the edge. It’s sure to be really cute, filled with selfies of him gaming and stuff. And maybe hot. He probably posts thirst traps, and I very much want to see those.
I pull my phone from my pocket, put my earbuds in, and hit play on my current playlist. The top song is “Straight to My Head” by You Me at Six, which is this song I’ve become weirdly obsessed with lately. It’s pretty much the only song I listen to. I turn the volume up way too high to be safe, but whatever. It lifts my mood almost instantly.
God, I love this song.
Up ahead, making their way down the hall toward me, is a group of football jocks. Even though it’s hot out, the whole group is wearing matching black-and-white varsity jackets, most unzipped with the sleeves pushed up. Damn, there are so many nice arms in that group. Any one of them could push me around and I’d be sort of a-okay with it.
Like, if they put me in a headlock …
They reach me, and one, Zach Lunsford, makes a show of not moving for me.
I duck out of the way at the last second.
“Watch it,” he says, growling.
“Sorry.”
I reach my locker, spin in my combination, and realize something.
He’s the first student I’ve talked to all day.
* * *
Another hour of searching, and I still haven’t found Jason.
I do this a lot. I have this weirdly obsessive brain. Whenever something catches my fancy, I latch on to it. I do it with movies and gaming, too. When I like something, I like it hard. I dive deep into theory threads on Reddit and watch analysis videos on YouTube, just generally obsess, until I find something else that draws my focus.
This is the first time I’ve felt this way about another person.
I’m aware I’m being ridiculous. I’m lying on my bed, staring at my phone, thinking about a boy.
I search my room for a distraction. Like, a game I can play, or a movie I can watch to get my mind off this. Beside my desk, which holds my space-gray MacBook Pro, is my bookshelf. It’s mostly epic fantasy and YA books, but front and center is my record of Sam’s Town. I don’t own a record player, but Luke got it for me because he knows how much I love that album.
On the dark gray wall above it are a few Polaroids from my real-photography-is-better phase, ugh, and custom art of Spider-Man, Harley Quinn, and Captain Marvel I bought on Etsy.
See, I love superhero movies.
Why’d I tell Jason I don’t like them that much?
I’m so weird.
The rest of the space is covered in movie posters. They’re all acceptable favorites, like Mulholland Drive, Creature from the Black Lagoon, and Jaws. For obvious reasons I haven’t put up a Love, Simon poster, even though I love that movie so damn hard. I’ve watched it maybe ten times.
Nothing distracts me, so I lift my phone and open Grindr.
Grindr always terrifies me, seeing as I’m so not ready to be out, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it, too. I’ve never met anyone on there, but talking to guys is still so exciting. I had to lie about my age to make my account, but that’s never really bothered me. The out gay guys at school constantly talk about their app conquests, so, like, I know everyone does it.
I use a shirtless mirror selfie, with my head cropped out. So I don’t think anyone would be able to figure out it’s me. I scroll the wall of guys, and see there’s another shirtless and headless profile five miles away.
His profile name is just “J.”
I sit up in bed.
He has only one photo, the shirtless one. He has pale skin, a six-pack, and nice biceps and a smooth chest. I picture him wearing Jason’s clothes.
Could it be him?
I open his profile, and message him.
Hey man, what’s up?
There’s a knock on my door. I jump so much I nearly drop my phone. I close Grindr, and then cover my crotch with my blanket. Just the thought of Jason being on Grindr was enough to make me hard.
Or maybe it was just the shirtless guy.
Yeah, I’ll go with that.
“Matt?”
“Yeah?”
The door opens. It’s Dad.
“What are you up to?” he asks.
“Nothing.”
He crosses my room, and opens my window. Okay, Dad, message received. He then grabs a few dishes I have festering on my desk. It’s maybe passive-aggressive, sure, but he’s cleaning up after me. I’m not going to complain.
“Have you eaten?” he asks.
“I had a pizza pocket.”
“And?”
I glance at the half-empty bottle of Coke Zero Sugar I have on my bedside table. A pizza pocket and no-calorie Coke. Dinner of champions.
“How about you have something not made of chemicals?”
“Everything is made of chemicals.”
He sighs. “Just have a piece of fruit, that’s all I ask. Something that’s seen sunlight at least once.”
“Okay, fine.”
I get out of bed and grab the remaining dishes from my desk. Dad and I walk through our house. Our place is massive, admittedly too big for the three of us. Or, four, if you count Eddie, our dog. Which I totally do.
He’s dozing on his spot in the living room right now. He’s a German shepherd, and Luke’s his favorite. He likes me well enough, but even though he’s technically the family dog, he’s always sort of felt like Luke’s more than he has mine or Dad’s. Luke even named him, after Eddie Brock, aka Venom, his favorite character.
I wonder if it’d feel more homey if Mom were still alive, but I guess I’ll never know. She died in a car accident when I was three. It was totally random; she was driving to visit her mom, who lives in Tampa. A drunk driver swerved into her lane, and that was it. I don’t think Dad’s ever gotten over it. I’m pretty sure she was the love of his life. As far as I know, he hasn’t even dated since.
I miss her, even though I never really knew her. Her name was Diane. I get told a lot I have her smile, which always makes my heart ache. I feel like she’d get me more than Dad does. But then again, she married him, knowing what he does. So maybe not.
Dad loads the dishwasher as I grab an apple from the fridge. Eddie perks up, growls, then lies back down. I guess someone walked past our place.
“Hey,” I say as I toss the apple up and down. “Are we going to go to the bar anytime soon?”
His eyebrows lift up. “You want to go to Jimmy’s?”
I get why he’s so shocked. I know getting me to do anything family related is normally like pulling teeth. Getting me to do anything is like pulling teeth.
“Not really. I’m just, like, curious.”
He puts a dishwashing tablet into the slot in the machine and then closes the door.
“I have a meeting there on Saturday. I was going to go by myself. I know Luke has plans, and I didn’t think you’d want to.”
Wow. Okay.
This is kind of perfect.
I can go to the bar without Luke.
“Can I come?” I ask. “I’m kind of sick of spending all weekend in the house, I’d rather do something.”
Dad eyes me warily. But then I guess he decides he doesn’t care, and he smiles.
“Sure, Matt. You’re more than welcome to come.”
CHAPTER FOUR
For the first time ever, I’m excited about going to the bar.
I even put way more effort into my appearance than normal. I’m wearing my favorite formal clothes, which are dark gray pants an
d a nice white shirt that actually fits me.
I ironed them, and Dad didn’t even need to tell me to. I’ve tucked the shirt in, and left the top button undone. I’ve put pomade in my hair and pressed it down, so it looks a little more deliberate than the shaggy mess it usually is.
Right now, I’m in the passenger seat of Dad’s car. We reach the bar, and he pulls into the parking lot. Outside, there are a bunch of parked cars and motorbikes, but the street looks mostly empty. It pretty much always does after sundown in this part of town.
The skyline is deep purple. I’d take a photo for my Instagram, if Dad wasn’t right here.
He pulls on the hand brake, then turns to face me.
“Are you wearing cologne?” he asks.
I am, in fact. I snuck into his room and stole some of his. I picked Bleu de Chanel. I didn’t think he’d notice.
“Yeah, I hope that’s cool?”
“It’s fine. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think you might’ve put on too much.”
Did I?
Oh God, I did.
I feel totally sick. The whole point of doing this is so I’ll smell good. For Jason. And everyone on earth hates people who wear too much cologne or perfume. One of my aunts always wears too much, and it makes me dread being near her. It’s like being thwacked in the face with a bouquet of flowers over and over.
“Next time, just use two sprays, one on each wrist, then hold them to your neck for a few seconds,” says Dad, showing me how it’s done. “That’s all you need.”
“Noted.”
I used literally four times that.
“But I do like the enthusiasm,” he says. “You wearing cologne, coming along. It’s a good look for you.”
I smile weakly. “Thanks.”
We get out of the car and go down the street. Around us are low white buildings. A few thin, sad-looking palm trees are dotted around the place, along with power lines, and overflowing dumpsters. We’re far enough away from the city that there’s no flowing traffic, so the whole place is really still.
The exterior of Jimmy’s is nothing special, to be honest. It’s just a big off-white rectangle, with the name of the bar in red and green neon on the front. The alley runs down its left, and there’s a red pop-out awning above the door. Underneath it is a bouncer, a big guy wearing all black. He has a tattoo of a scorpion snaking up his neck.
He recognizes Dad, so he waves us through.
Inside, I peer around.
My cousin Ethan is playing pool with Vince. They both nod at Dad and ignore me. Cassidy is standing by the jukebox.
I can’t see him.
Phew.
I mean, I do want to see him. Just not yet. Not until I’ve washed the cologne off and Dad’s gone upstairs.
“Are you okay to entertain yourself for a few hours?” asks Dad, who is looking at his watch. It’s an heirloom Rolex, one handed down to him from his father. If anything happens to Dad, Luke’ll get it, for sure.
“Yeah, ’course. Have a good night.”
“You too.”
He turns to walk up the stairs.
“And, um,” I say, calling him back. “I might, like, Uber home. So if I’m gone, like, don’t stress.”
“That’s fine. Just text me your plans.”
“Will do.”
I know he has no trouble leaving me, because I’m surrounded by family. There’s not much trouble I can get into, seeing as half the crowd here are blood relatives. My grandma is even here. She’s sitting in a booth with a few of my aunts.
Maybe this plan is dumb.
What will even happen if I do see Jason? I can’t leave with him again. If I do, people will talk. I go into the bathroom and half expect him to be standing there, washing his hands, like last time.
But it’s empty.
I wash my hands in the sink and then wet a paper towel and wipe the sides of my neck. I scrub a bit, until my skin turns slightly pink. Then I do the same on the back of my wrists. I think that should get rid of most of it. Once I’m done, I look up at my reflection.
What are you doing?
Why are you here?
I leave the bathroom, head to the bar, and sit down on one of the stools. I spin and look around.
He’s not here.
Now I feel stupid.
I came here for him. I hate this place, and yet I came here, on the off chance that he might show up again. What else could I do? I couldn’t find his social media, and I wasn’t just going to let it drop. My stupid brain is too curious about him.
Now I need to spend the night here. By myself. Ugh.
It’s times like this that make me wish I liked drinking.
I don’t, though. For one, it tastes bad. And two, I hate the thought of not being in total control of myself, especially around my family.
I kick my shoe against the bar. It’s made of dark wood and varnished so it’s shiny. Like always, bluesy, small-town rock is playing on the speakers. I breathe in, and the air smells like Scotch. And still faintly like Dad’s cologne.
Maybe I should just leave. Call it a night, cut my losses.
Maybe …
I hear the front door open.
I’m too nervous to look.
Then a dark shape slides into the space beside me.
“Hey, you,” Jason says.
My heart starts thudding.
“Oh, hi,” I say.
He leans against the bar. “Waiting for someone?”
Um. I mean, yes, I was waiting for him, but I don’t want to admit it.
“Um, no, I’m not waiting for anybody. Dad’s in a meeting upstairs. I’m just killing time. You know, the usual.”
I glance back at him. He’s wearing a gray shirt this time, neatly tucked into black slacks. The top two buttons are undone again, and he’s wearing the same shoes as last time. I can’t believe I noticed that, but you know.
They’re great shoes.
His hair is gently tussled and styled with product.
I glance at Vince. He’s busy playing pool.
“Too bad,” says Jason. “I was hoping you might be waiting for me.”
“I don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Wait for people.”
He smirks. “That’s smart. I totally came here hoping I’d see you.” He taps his knuckles on the bar.
I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. It’s everything I want to hear. But it feels so dangerous. I’m not ready for anyone to know about me yet. Not even a stranger. But this boy … he’s making me feel all sorts of things.
He’s turned his body to the side now, so he’s fully facing me. My stare goes down his neck, to the smooth skin visible between the halves of his shirt. It’s so captivating. I imagine brushing my fingers along it, then immediately push the thought away.
“Wanna sneak out again?” he asks.
Hell yes.
But I feel like I shouldn’t. People might see.
He leans closer. I feel like I can’t move. Like I’m rooted to the spot, all my focus on him. I can smell his cologne, which is perfect, and the mint on his breath. His lips are nicely arched and look really soft.
It makes me think about kissing.
He leans down and whispers in my ear: “Outside, five minutes.”
He pats my chest, his hand lingering against me for a second, and then walks away.
Okay, fuck.
I turn, and watch as he leaves the bar. Then I scan the crowd.
Nobody is even looking my way. Everyone is too wrapped up in their own conversations, their own drama. Vince sinks a ball and then grins. It looks like a close game, and Ethan’s face is set in concentration.
Nobody saw him touch me.
Let me process this. The boy who hasn’t left my brain in over a week wants to see me again. Outside.
I crack my neck, and then the bartender notices me. I don’t want anything, but I don’t want it to seem like I was here just to get Jason’s attention.
/> “What can I getcha?” he asks.
“Er, just a Coke?”
He frowns, like that’s weird, but pours me one. It costs five dollars.
FIVE DOLLARS FOR A COKE. And that’s a Miller price.
So stupid.
I sip it slowly. It’s ice-cold, so it’s actually pretty delicious. But still, five dollars. I wait a while, just thinking. Has it been five minutes yet? I doubt it. I think he asked me to wait so people don’t think we left, like, together.
I finish my Coke and put the glass down on the bar. The ice rattles.
I stand and find my legs are shaking. I cross the room as quickly as I can, keeping my stare down so I don’t accidentally catch anyone’s eye, and then step outside. It’s humid out here, like an armpit.
Florida can be disgusting.
Jason is leaning against the wall of the alley. It’s so dark I can barely see him.
“Hey,” he says as he detaches from the wall. “For a second there I didn’t think you were coming.”
I shrug, managing to look everywhere but at him.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad,” he says. “I’ve been looking forward to seeing you all week. I had so much fun with you.”
“Oh, um, cool.”
He grins at me, then starts walking down the street. I fall into step beside him. We’re going away from Sunshine Diner. I’m kind of bummed. I want more of those waffle fries in my life.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“I love that you asked that,” he says. “So trusting, like a little lamb.”
I scoff. “I didn’t say I’d go anywhere with you. I just want to know what the plan is. Don’t you want to go to the diner again?”
He shakes his head. “Not tonight.”
We reach the parking lot of the bar. I’m a little worried about how well lit it is. I feel like anyone could see me.
I turn and look at the bar. The upstairs windows face the lot.
He stops in front of a small silver Toyota and unlocks it with a fob. Its lights flash orange.
“Um,” I say. “I don’t know about this.”
“About what?”
“I don’t think getting in a car with, no offense, pretty much a total stranger, is a good idea.”
He tosses his keys up and down. “Why is that?”
The Friend Scheme Page 3