by Anna Martin
“Sounds good.”
“Yeah. Looks like you overcompensated last night?”
“Shut up,” Steve muttered. “I had a quiet drink at a bar with a friend.”
“Uh-huh. Usually when you do that, you’re not still in your underwear the following afternoon.”
“Fine. Then I went to a club and had too many shots. Happy now?”
Dylan snorted. “You should know better.”
“Oh, I definitely should.”
“Did you meet up with your boyfriend?”
Steve glared at his son. Who was definitely being a little shit and taking advantage of Steve’s weakened state. “I don’t have a boyfriend,” he said.
“Sure you don’t.”
“I am casually dating a guy, which may or may not turn into something else. Plus, I’m too old for a boyfriend.”
“Say that again,” Dylan said under his breath.
“Careful.” Steve jabbed a finger in his general direction.
Dylan grinned beatifically and circled his imaginary halo.
“That’s a nice shirt,” Steve said, hoping to change the subject. Dylan’s dark red button-down was definitely new; Steve guessed a gift from his siblings.
“Yeah,” he said, looking down at it. “I think Erin chose it. She has better taste than Jacob.”
“You want to do something for your birthday? I can put pants on.”
Dylan laughed at that. “No, honestly. It’s fine.”
They had a variation of this conversation almost every year. Steve never wanted to stop offering, in case one year Dylan decided he did want to celebrate being another year older. Twenty-one was a big deal too. Steve had been prepared to throw a party before Dylan made it very clear he didn’t want that. Dylan never wanted much. That was okay.
“You should at least go to a bar and get a beer. A legal one.” Steve was already swinging his legs off the sofa, readying himself to go and put real clothes on.
“I can do that anytime. Plus, I’ve had a fake ID for at least two years.”
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.”
“Say what?”
Steve slapped his hand over his face. Dylan was never going to stop being difficult… or a little shit. It was just another endearing part of his personality.
“Do you want dinner?”
Dylan shrugged. “I could eat.”
“Okay, let me get dressed, and we’ll go out to eat.”
It wasn’t something they did so rarely that Dylan would consider it a “birthday dinner.” It could definitely be a casual Sunday night dinner.
“Take a shower too.”
Steve winced. “That bad?”
“You’re covered in orange dust, dude.”
“Fine.” Steve sighed and stomped up the stairs, remembering at the last minute to jump over Dylan’s duffel bag.
DYLAN CHOSE a barbecue place on the outskirts of town, which Steve was definitely okay with. It was operated by two guys from Kentucky, brothers who had decided to take what they knew and head West.
The result was a joint that always looked slightly sketchy from the outside, with a dilapidated porch and no designated parking. People just pulled up and left their cars, and most of the time, they were courteous to leave enough space for the person in front to get out.
Inside there were long communal tables and a menu written on a blackboard next to the bar. The chicken-scratch handwriting proclaimed the specials of the day, with another board of fixin’s to choose from. Ordering was easy—a little from column A, a little from column B, and beer.
“You want a beer?” Steve asked as they settled at one of the long tables.
“Sure,” Dylan said with a laugh. “Something light, though. I have to work tomorrow, and I don’t want to do it in the state you’re currently in.”
“I resemble that statement,” Steve said to make him laugh.
He ordered the sharing platter, which was that combination of column A and column B with no choosing required. They’d turned up just in time; as the waitress brought their beers over, a line was starting to form at the door.
“Popular tonight,” Steve said, nodding to the crowd.
She grinned at him. “Popular every night. Enjoy your food, boys.”
If this didn’t cure his hangover, nothing would. The platter was piled high with brisket, link sausages, carved blackened turkey, plus homemade slaw, ears of corn, and a baked potato each.
“We’re never going to eat all this,” Dylan said, already loading up his plate.
“I’m gonna give it my best shot.”
“So, uh, I told the kids that I’m gay.”
Steve tried to hide his surprise. “How did that go?”
“They were cool. I didn’t say anything to Nicola and Brandon, though. They can be a bit churchy sometimes. I wasn’t sure what their reaction would be.”
“Well, you’re under no obligation to tell them anything. What made you decide to tell the kids?”
Dylan shrugged and shoved a huge piece of turkey into his mouth. Steve waited patiently until he wanted to talk again.
“I guess I didn’t want it to be something that I was keeping from them.”
“I understand. I’m glad you felt like you could do that.”
“They’re nice kids. They were raised right.”
“So were you,” Steve said, suddenly defensive.
Dylan pointedly rolled his eyes. “I know that. I mean, you can tell they’ve got nice parents who are raising them to be respectful and stuff. I was a horrible kid when I was their age. It’s good to know… I guess it’s good to know that they did better than me. Already.”
“I think you’ve done better than them. You worked your ass off to get where you are now. It’s easy to be a nice person when you’ve had nice people being nice to you your whole life. It’s harder to be a nice person when you’ve had to go through some tough circumstances.”
“I guess.”
“Don’t put yourself down, Dylan.”
“I’m not,” he said, reaching for the corn. “I’m just happy for them, you know?”
“Good.” Steve watched him for a moment, wondering what he’d done to get such a great kid. “Happy birthday, Dylan.”
Dylan kicked him under the table.
He deserved that.
Chapter Nine
IT HAD been a weird weekend for James, with Dylan away seeing his brother and sister. It wasn’t like they spent all their free time together, but James was getting used to allocating a portion of his weekend to hanging out with Dylan.
The weather turned out to be on his side, with a thick, miserable drizzle coating the town for most of the weekend. It made him want to stay inside.
He didn’t get to see Dylan during the following week either. It seemed every time he thought he’d cleared his way through a slog of homework, the next day more would be piled on him by sadistic teachers. Even his smart-as-shit sister was struggling under the weight of it all, combined with her rehearsal schedule. When she took two nights off dance practice to make sure she got through it all, James felt a little better. At least he wasn’t the dumb sibling.
He texted back and forth with Dylan and wished he felt confident enough to call. There wasn’t really a good time. Before dinner he would try and make a start on homework, and after dinner was family time, and it would have been suspicious if he snuck off to call someone.
On Friday night, James had picked up an extra shift, working until the 1:00 a.m. closing time. He was grateful for both the boost in his income and the excuse to stay in bed for hours longer than usual on Saturday morning.
When he finally got out of bed and made his way downstairs, he discovered his dad had co-opted the dining room table for grading assignments. Since James quite liked working with other people around, he set up on the end of the table with his laptop and a stack of textbooks.
Having a dad who was a chemistry teacher was definitely an advantage when working thr
ough science homework. Not that his dad ever did the work for them, but James and Frankie turned in near-perfect assignments to their teacher on a regular basis.
“Look at problems three and five again,” his dad said, handing James back the worksheet.
“Ugh, really?”
“Or don’t.”
“You’re such a—”
“Finish that sentence,” his dad said darkly.
James smiled sweetly. “Thanks, Dad.”
“You’re welcome. You got a B-plus on that economics essay, by the way.”
James winced. He hadn’t officially been handed back the essay; his economics class wasn’t until Tuesday. The teachers had some kind of group chat thing, though, that James often tried not to think about too hard.
“Is that… acceptable?”
“It’s better than a D.”
James decided not to answer that.
“Are you ready to tell me what was going on?”
“It’s nothing.”
“James, I’ve been your dad for a long time. You know you can talk to me.”
James shut his laptop. “I’m going to make a coffee. You want one?”
He got a long stare. “Yes, please.”
James nodded and ducked into the kitchen, then stole a cookie while he waited for the coffee to brew. He still wasn’t sure if he wanted to tell his dad about Dylan. Everything seemed more stable now than a few weeks back; this wasn’t some passing fling. They actually liked each other. A lot.
That didn’t change the fact that Dylan was in college and had a job. He had work to catch up on this weekend after being away seeing his brother and sister, meaning there was a slight chance they might get to see each other on Sunday, but James wasn’t holding out much hope.
He made the coffee in their favorite mugs and carried the “World’s Sexiest Teacher” mug through to his dad. It was creepy. One of his colleagues had bought it for him for Secret Santa one year.
“I have a boyfriend,” James said as he sat down.
“Oh.” His dad blew on the surface of the coffee and took a sip. “Okay.”
“Okay.”
“Is that the reason why your grades dropped?”
“My grades didn’t drop,” James said, suddenly annoyed. “I had two bad assignments, which I’ve fixed. For a couple of days, I kind of… lost focus. But I’ve been seeing him for a few weeks now, and you hadn’t even noticed, so….”
“I noticed, James,” Mark said gently. “I just wanted to give you some space. Privacy.”
James nodded. “Thanks.”
“Does he go to FHH?”
“No,” James said. He didn’t hesitate and hoped his dad would assume Dylan went to one of the other high schools in the county.
“Is there anything else you want to tell me about?”
“Not right now.”
“Okay.” He sipped his coffee again. “James, I know I’m never going to be the cool dad who you talk about this stuff with. But I want you to know I’m here for you, no matter what, no matter who you’re dating.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Problems three and five.”
James glanced back down at the worksheet to hide his smile.
“Three and five. Got it, Dad.”
BY LATE afternoon the rain had cleared up and the sun was peeking through the clouds. It wasn’t what James would call warm, but it wasn’t forecast to rain again. Some of Frankie’s friends were having a party. James had heard mutters about it around school, though no one had invited him directly… except his sister. James was resisting, hoping Dylan might call and say he’d changed his mind about catching up with his friends. That was stupid, though. Dylan had every right to see his friends.
“Come on, we’re going out tonight,” Frankie said, pushing at James’s leg with her foot.
“I don’t wanna.”
“I don’t care. You’re killing my buzz, lying around like a slug with no friends.”
“Gee, thanks, Frankie.”
“We’re leaving in fifteen minutes. Change your shirt.”
She flounced out of his room, tossing her hair over her shoulder, and James wondered how the two of them ever shared a womb without killing each other.
For a minute he lay still, not sure where his energy reserve was, and then he dug deep and found it and hauled himself off the bed.
He had a few nice clothes he could wear for the party, but he didn’t need to impress anyone, and he really didn’t care what anyone thought. So he grabbed his favorite old green-and-blue flannel shirt and buttoned it over a gray T-shirt.
As James expected, Frankie rolled her eyes at him when she saw what he was wearing, but she didn’t make a comment, which probably told James all he needed to know about how pathetic he was being.
There was someone in the kitchen talking with their dad, but James really didn’t want to be polite to adults he didn’t know, so he snuck out and yelled goodbye to his dad at the last second.
“Who was that?” James asked as he slammed the front door shut behind them.
“Steve.”
“What is it at the moment with guys named Steve?” James muttered to himself, twirling his keys around his finger. Frankie didn’t answer anyway. He wasn’t expecting her to.
As soon as they got in the truck, Frankie grabbed her phone from her pocket and called her boyfriend. James almost wanted to be mad at her, but he actually liked Luis. He was sweet and earnest and actually paid attention to Frankie, what she liked and stuff. Last year Luis had transferred to FHH from one of the other high schools in the area. He’d joined the baseball team and started dating Frankie over the summer and generally made it really difficult for James to hate the guy for dating his sister.
“We’re about fifteen minutes out,” Frankie said. “James is driving. Yeah. Okay. See you in a bit.”
“Everything okay?” James asked.
“Yeah. Luis said there’s a lot of people there already.”
“Where exactly are we going? It’s not at someone’s house, right?”
“No, hell no. People are parking down by the lake.”
James raised an eyebrow at that. “Parking down by the lake” was what got junior year girls pregnant.
“Not like that. Someone hooked up speakers to their car, and people are just, you know. Hanging out.”
“Okay.”
“Are you talking to Anthony again yet?”
“I wasn’t not talking to him,” James said, trying hard to keep his voice even.
“Sure, uh-huh, okay. That’s not gonna fly with me, James. We shared a womb. I know you better than that.”
“He freaked out when I told him about Dylan.”
“I know. He told me. He also told me he feels insanely guilty about it and wants to apologize to you, but you won’t talk to him.”
“That’s not true.”
“Well, he’s going to be here tonight, so make a point of going over and saying hi, okay? Give him a chance. He really does feel shitty.”
“Since when are you and Anthony BFFs?” James grouched.
“Since you decided to attach yourself to him for most of our adolescence. I talk to him more than you realize.”
James wasn’t sure how he felt about that, so he didn’t say anything. It was probably safer.
He heard the music way before they got to the parking lot at the lake. If this was how crazy it had gotten and things had only just started, then it really wouldn’t be long before someone called the cops to come bust it up. James parked way back toward the entrance to the parking lot, meaning he could make an easy escape if he had to. As they walked down to the water’s edge, the familiar smell of weed wafted to them on the breeze.
Yeah, James really didn’t want to get caught up in that if—or when—the cops turned up.
They quickly found Luis with a bunch of his friends—the ones who were smoking the weed, apparently. Luis threw an arm around Frankie’s shoulders and kissed her on the cheek, then offer
ed his fist to James to bump.
“I’m gonna go look for people,” he said to Frankie, who nodded and waved him off.
He guessed there were almost a hundred people gathered for the party. Someone with a pimped-out car was blasting music from heavy speakers in the trunk, the bass thudding through the soft ground. A few people were holding red solo cups, and James wasn’t naive to think there wasn’t alcohol being passed around, even if almost everyone here was eighteen or younger.
The floodlights by the lake were kept on all night as a security precaution, though they were all on the other side of the lake. That was probably why they were all hanging out over here—no one wanted to be brightly lit from above. It wasn’t flattering. Instead, the light reflected off the lake from the floodlights, and the moon made eerie shadows in between the cars, making it difficult to identify people until James was close to them.
The edge of the lake was lined with a man-made pebble beach, which made it nice to walk along barefoot. James wanted to take his sneakers off, to feel the cool water lapping at his toes. He didn’t give in to the temptation. There were signs all around the edge of the lake with warnings about how deep the water was and pleas to clean up when you left.
James kicked a pebble and looked out over the glassy black lake, missing Dylan so much it hurt. He skirted the edge of the crowd, making his way back to where Frankie and Luis were laughing with their friends. James didn’t really fit in with them. They were polite enough, but he didn’t get their shared jokes, wasn’t part of their inner circle.
Frankie was talking to one of the girls animatedly, her face bright and enthusiastic about something. Probably the show. James waited until he caught Luis’s attention.
“Hey, man, can you give Frankie a ride home later? I’m going to head out.”
“Already?”
James nodded. “Yeah. You’ll watch her for me?”
“Of course.”
He accepted the bro-hug and slap on the back. Luis really would take care of Frankie; James didn’t need to worry about that. Frankie looked over, confused, and raised an eyebrow at him. James blew her a kiss, and she nodded.