The Bones of You

by Laura Stone

  “No, we’re just friends,” Oliver said, trying to not turn red.

  “Shut up!” Little Mike looked around to see if anyone was listening in and dropped his voice. “You dudes totally hooked up!”

  Oliver’s jaw dropped. “What? I… how?” He also dropped his voice, and tried not to look shocked or caught out. “How did you know?”

  Little Mike smirked. “I didn’t. You just told me. Man, you guys never learn. Don’t worry; I won’t tell his old man.” He pulled another beer out of a nearby cooler and cracked it open. “So? What’s this ‘just friends’ stuff? I never took you two to be one-night stand kind of guys.”

  “I… Mike. Please.” Oliver felt hot all over. He was mortified, and worried that he would say something to ruin the delicate strands holding him to Seth for the time being. “It’s just… no. No, I’m not going to talk about this. It feels like I’m talking behind his back, and I don’t want to be that guy.”

  “No prob, bro. Just know that I’m kinda good at relationships, okay? I’ve had hundreds.”

  He was completely sincere. Knowing that was enough to let off a little of the pressure that was building inside Oliver as he worried that Little Mike might run his mouth. The guy was true to his word. Most of the time. Well, often enough that people could be fooled. Oliver just hoped this was one of those times that proved Little Mike told the truth. “Well, thank you. And I’d appreciate it if you’d keep this between us.”

  Little Mike gently ribbed Oliver with his elbow, his half-empty beer can banging into Oliver’s watch. “No worries, kid. I don’t think anyone would get upset, but I can respect that.”

  Oliver sagged in relief.

  “We’re all pulling for you two to get back together, anyway.”

  Oliver turned to him. “What?”

  “You two were meant to be together. You’re like the gay Romeo and Juliet.”

  Oliver decided to not remind him how that particular love affair ended and take it for the sweet sentiment it was intended to be.

  * * *

  At various times during the evening, when Oliver found himself chatting with a group of people, Big Mike would walk past him on his way to the kitchen and give his shoulder a squeeze. And Mike sat down next to him for a brief period, as John told him all about his new apartment. After a few minutes, Mike patted Oliver’s knee and muttered, “Real good to have you around again, kid.” Then he went to tend to more guests.

  Repeating the mantra was getting harder and harder.

  John ran out to his car at ten-thirty to grab his karaoke machine and personal microphone; he had a stock mic for everyone else to use. John took karaoke very seriously and imagined himself to be Kansas’s own Bon Jovi. Most of the party trooped down to the basement.

  Oliver stood back against the wall as John and Big Mike moved the coffee table and small armchair out of the way, making enough room by the entertainment center for people to sing. Natalie perched on the sofa, whistling and catcalling at John when he bent over to plug things in.

  “Do you think anyone would take a bet that he’ll sing the first three songs?”

  Oliver jumped at the sensation of Seth whispering in his ear. Their nearness sent a tingling shock across Oliver’s skin. “Um, I think everyone will know that’s a given, sorry.”

  “Mm.” Seth leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his body angled toward Oliver’s.

  He could almost forget that they weren’t a couple. That nothing was decided. That Seth hadn’t said repeatedly, throughout the night, that the two of them were just friends. Almost.

  By John’s third song—Seth nodded knowingly at Oliver when “Blaze of Glory” queued up and John took a wider stance to belt it out—Natalie decided that a duet would be more fun and dragged Oliver onto the stage “for old times’ sake.” Oliver took the second microphone, worried that he’d make a fool of himself.

  “Take it easy on me, okay?” he whispered to Natalie after she kissed John on the cheek and took his mic.

  “Oh, honey, you know that if it’s easy, I’m taking it twice,” she teased.

  Oliver groaned as she grinned and an ‘80s power ballad began to blast out of the floor speakers. Natalie winked and started singing, looping her arm through Oliver’s when he joined in. He started to relax; the crowd was friendly and raucous, and they cheered and whistled as Natalie pranced onstage. He chanced a look at the back of the room where he’d left Seth and saw him still there, against the wall, biting the end of his thumb to hide his smile as he bounced his head along with the beat.

  He looked at his own feet, dancing along with the music, and grinned stupidly. It just felt… good. Good to be singing, not terribly, as he’d feared; good to be having fun and helping other people have a good time by contributing to the energy. But most of all it felt amazing to see Seth smiling at him as he sang.

  Oliver twirled Natalie as she belted out the chorus and then joined in, bobbing his head to the beat and letting go. To an outsider, he wouldn’t fit: a stuffy-looking, well-groomed country club type hanging with folks covered in tats and studded leather. And yet this was where he felt most at home: with Seth’s welcoming, fun-loving family, blood-related or not.

  They finished the song to more cheers and whistles. Laughing, Oliver made a modest bow and motioned toward Natalie, who gave him a side hug and asked who was next. Oliver handed his mic over to her and did a little jog toward the back of the room. He was about to slide his arms around Seth’s waist when he realized with a start that they didn’t do that anymore.

  He disguised the move by patting Seth on the arm awkwardly and asking, “When are you going up there?”

  Seth gave him a questioning look and returned the awkward pat to his shoulder. “I don’t know? Why are we doing weird patting things?”

  Oliver hung his head and laughed. “Sorry. I just got caught up in the muscle memory, I guess.”

  Seth looked at him quizzically, and then his gaze softened. “Oh.” He smiled and gave Oliver a one-armed hug. “It really has been a long time since you’ve sung anywhere, hasn’t it?”

  “Try high school choir,” Oliver said dryly.

  “Oh, we’ll have to fix that right away,” Seth said, leaning back against the wall and pointing his chin at the guy currently singing “Ring Of Fire.” “Dad’s friends are going to turn this into a country thing, and I just cannot start a new year with Billy Ray Cyrus in my head.”

  Laughing, Oliver pushed off the wall and tentatively held Seth’s elbow for the briefest of moments. “I’m going to get a fresh drink; would you like anything?”

  “I—” Seth looked down and laughed softly. He looked back up at Oliver, sweetly, nervously and with a touch of sadness. “I hid a bottle of champagne in the refrigerator out in the garage so no one else would find it.” His expression was almost one of mourning, but that made sense to Oliver. He didn’t think he would ever stop grieving their past relationship.

  Seth touched his own neck, running his fingers along the edge of his shirt collar. “Feel like opening it up?”

  Oliver forgot about the music, forgot about the crowd of people, most of whom he didn’t really know, and stared at the pink flush of Seth’s cheeks. Then he was drawn back to the movement of Seth’s fingers, sliding back and forth over the crisp cotton of his shirt. At least Seth remembered that night, their last New Year’s Eve together. How they’d slipped away to celebrate the clock striking twelve on their own and open their hidden bottle of champagne. How they’d kissed to ensure that the New Year started with their love for each other. How Oliver had unbuttoned the top two buttons on Seth’s shirt, pulling it aside to kiss that sensitive spot where Seth’s shoulder and neck met.

  “It’s just that everyone here is drinking beer, and that’s never been my thing.”

  “Yes. Sure. Um, I’ll be back?” Oliver stammered, and walked backwards to the stairs. Seth smiled at him and turned away, looking down and grinning. Seth could play it off like he just didn’t want a beer, but O
liver knew Seth; even after all of this time apart, he knew him.

  It wouldn’t be the same as the last time, that was certain: Six years ago to the day, they were happily in love; they didn’t leave each other’s side all night; they danced for hours, swaying in each other’s arms regardless of the tempo of the song; and they kissed each other with all the love in their hearts at the strike of twelve, murmuring “I love you” over and over. Tonight wouldn’t be like that night.

  But it was shaping up to be its own special event, all the same.

  * * *

  It took a while for Oliver to make it to the garage. Mike drew him over to a group of older guys whom he introduced as buddies from his fantasy football league, and while he was incredibly happy that Mike was introducing him and saying lovely things about what he’d accomplished (“This kid is something else, always knew it; he’s going to school all the way over in England, you know,”), he wanted nothing more than to be at Seth’s side and to see where the night would go.

  He was finally able to slip away after telling Mike that he had been sent to get a drink for Seth, which earned him an impressed and happy nod. He found the bottle in the garage and helped himself to wine glasses in the kitchen. As he unwrapped the foil, Mike came in quietly with a beer in his hand. He set it down and ruffled his fingers through Oliver’s hair, smiling at him in a fatherly way.

  “We’re all really glad you’re here, Ollie. I missed ya.”

  Oliver couldn’t help himself; he melted and smiled hugely. “I’m really glad to be here, too.”

  Mike held his gaze, softly smiling, before picking his beer back up and taking a sip. “Going well?”

  Oliver was almost positive that Mike had an expectant look on his face. He tamped down his nerves to reply, “I guess so? I’m having a nice time. Thank you for having me.”

  “You talk like a stranger we picked up on the side of the road.” Mike shook his head. “Kid, the number of times I thought about driving over to that mansion of yours and having a man-to-man with your pop—you’re a part of the family. Of course we’d have you. We missed you, buddy. All of us.”

  Oliver flushed, not really sure how to absorb that Big Mike had missed him, too. Mike seemed to pick up on that as he patted Oliver’s hand and grabbed a bag of chips off the counter.

  Oliver watched him walk out of the kitchen and settle into his hideous easy chair, the one Seth had never been able to convince him to get rid of. Someone said something to make Mike laugh, and the ease in the man’s face, the joy that poured from him simply because he was surrounded by his friends, made something ache deep inside Oliver. God, he just wanted to be a part of this family again. He wanted it with every fiber of his being. The ease with which Mike shared his love for his son, his friends—Oliver had never felt anything like it. Now that he was confronted with how bereft his life actually was without it, he couldn’t stand the thought of not having these people, whom he still loved, in his life.

  He took a deep breath and turned back to the bottle, popping the cork easily and pouring two glasses. He slipped the bottle into the refrigerator behind some condiments, hoping it wouldn’t be discovered by someone else, grabbed the glasses and, unwilling to be distracted from his goal, made his way back downstairs with nods to people whose eyes caught his.

  He had to push past a few people he didn’t know who had strayed downstairs to listen to the karaoke only to find John back on the microphone, singing “Me and Bobby McGee.” It was a surprisingly good fit for his voice. Oliver scanned the room, looking for Seth. He was across the room chatting with Natalie. John sang the part about trading all his tomorrows for a single yesterday and wanting to hold Bobby’s body close; Seth looked up, a little scandalized, and caught Oliver’s eye.

  They grinned at each other, Seth shaking his head. He knew that Seth was wondering if John had ever listened to the words of that song before, or if he’d just become so comfortable with his own sexuality that he didn’t mind singing about longing for a man to sleep with.

  A thrill went through Oliver; it was such a couple thing to do, a conversation through nothing more than eye contact. He made his way through the crowd and handed Seth his glass. Natalie cast Oliver a sour look.

  “You holding out on me?” she asked, her eyes narrowed.

  Seth laughed but Oliver shrugged, worried that he’d just offended her. “It wasn’t my bottle—” Oliver began to apologize, “and Seth asked for a glass, so—”

  “I’m just joking; I’m designated driver tonight.” Natalie winked and bumped him with her hip playfully.

  Most of the crowd was singing along by now, so it was almost impossible to speak to anyone. Oliver stood near Seth and watched John sway on the stage, a huge grin on his face as he led the crowd. Seth clinked his glass gently against Oliver’s and leaned in to speak directly into his ear. “Thank you.”

  Oliver flashed him a huge smile and mouthed, “Of course.”

  John handed the mic to Natalie when he was finished. She took a sip of her soda, blew a kiss to him and punched in her selection. The people Oliver didn’t know were still talking loudly and not paying attention. John sat on the floor next to Natalie, looking up at her adoringly, and a few other people began to grow quiet and pay attention when Gladys Knight’s “Neither One of Us” began to play and Natalie began to sing.

  She was no Gladys, but she could carry a tune and did a good job inflecting the song with wistfulness, so much so that a hush soon fell over the room. Her voice was nice, but the song was painful. Oliver was keenly aware of Seth at his side; the few inches between their bodies seemed to grow into miles as the song went on.

  Oliver dropped his gaze as she sang about old memories getting in the way of seeing reality, trying to tamp down the worry that somehow this song and its message of letting go was prophetic, that it would somehow ruin the mercurial strands of connection between him and Seth. Those fears, combined with the earnest voice singing of a relationship that had run its course, proved to be too much. A tear slipped down his cheek as Natalie, her head thrown back, belted out the part about a happy ending being impossible.

  He felt a squeeze on his bicep and looked over to see Seth watching him, worry at the corners of his eyes and just maybe something else that Oliver didn’t dare hope for.

  Seth cleared his throat. “She’s good.”

  Oliver nodded, unable to look Seth in the eye.

  Seth smiled gently at him and turned back to watch her close out the song. He did, however, reach out and briefly hold Oliver’s hand before he crossed his arms once again.

  Natalie bent down and rubbed John’s head, winking as she sang a final farewell to her love in the song.

  It couldn’t have hurt more if she’d reached inside Oliver and crushed his heart. Yes, it was a powerful, amazing song; but it also spoke to the fear that he was fooling himself into thinking that something permanent was happening between him and Seth.

  The crowd applauded and whistled; Natalie feigned dusting off her shoulder and laid the microphone on top of a speaker. “Follow that.”

  Oliver used the moment when everyone was focused on her to wipe his eyes. He needed to get out of there, needed to get his head clear and think. He wanted to make sure he wasn’t projecting his expectations onto the night, no matter how badly he wanted it to end with Seth saying he was willing to try to be Seth-and-Oliver again.

  He murmured, “Excuse me for a minute,” to Seth, pushed through the crowd and climbed the stairs. The party was getting louder as it neared midnight; Oliver moved from room to room to find someplace empty and had to resort to stepping out onto the front porch.

  It was freezing , and he wore just a thin cashmere sweater and a button-down. He huddled next to one of the porch columns, looking at the heaps of snow piled on either side of the sidewalk. The steam from his breath stuttered out into the cold night air, his lungs hitching with the force of his attempt to get some control over himself. He worried—was he just imagining signals from Set
h, or the apparent approval for his return to the Larsen family? They might be just as happy to see him as they would any of Seth’s old friends. Maybe the inherent romance of the evening was playing tricks on him.

  Just because there was a sort of built-in promise in the night didn’t mean it was for him. Just because Seth had champagne didn’t mean he wanted to recreate their last New Year’s together.

  Just because he wanted Seth so badly he thought he would die from the ache of it didn’t mean he would have him back.

  He heard the door open behind him and slipped his hand to his face to wipe away his tears, saying in a forced-cheerful voice, “Just getting some fresh air.”

  “Oliver?” It was Seth. “Are you okay?”

  Oliver’s shoulders sagged, his eyes closed, and he was vaguely aware that he was shaking with the cold when he felt a warm hand on his shoulder. Seth said softly, “Oliver.”

  “Um.” He exhaled. “Yeah! Yes, just… you know. A lot of people in there. I just wanted some fresh air for a minute.”

  “You’re about to miss the countdown.” Seth continued to stand behind him, rubbing calming patterns into Oliver’s shoulder; Oliver’s shaking intensified no matter how tightly he wrapped his arms around himself or how hard he tried to keep calm while Seth touched him, soothed him.

  “Oliver. You’re freezing.” The apprehension in Seth’s voice melted into something softer, as if he understood just how hard this was for Oliver and somehow wanted to make it better.

  “I’m trying so hard,” Oliver said, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “I’m trying not to push things, I really am.”

  “I know,” Seth said softly. “I know.” Seth sighed, his hand stilling on Oliver’s back but not leaving. “This is really hard for me. I’m not trying to say it isn’t for you, too, it’s just—I see you, and my instinct is to act the way we once were. The last time I saw you—”

  “Please don’t bring that awful night up, Seth. Please.” Oliver felt like he was crumbling to pieces, and his throat began to burn from the lump forming there.