June had burned with the intensity of the summer sun, and Aaron was only a little bit certain that this…arrangement was going to work. Although his hostility had faded into a silent understanding once Aaron explained why he was here, June still seemed to harbor a wildfire inside of him. He’d reached out to shake Aaron’s hand at the end of their conversation, and the feeling of his tanned skin in his palm made him very, indescribably vulnerable.
Aaron didn't remember much after that, though. His mind had given up on him, and he was so exhausted he couldn't let himself think about the situation anymore. He’d leave that for the next morning—probably before he even managed to emerge from the tiny guest room in the cabin. Probably before he even had the chance to consider it was a little unfair he was in a tiny guest room in a cabin that his parents owned, and June’s parents only rented for a few months a year. Yeah. He’d save that petty conversation for later too.
Sleep took ahold of him like the darkness of the night.
2
All the Small Things
In the morning, June woke first. Although, that shouldn’t be a surprise. Aaron had spent almost twenty-four hours traveling, and June was a morning person. He liked the gentle warmth of sunlight before it got too high over his head. He liked doing art in the morning, when his mind was fresh and open—not yet clouded by the thoughts of whatever the day had in store.
Except this morning, June didn't have any of his art supplies with him, and a stranger snored in the guest room of his beloved cabin. He laid in bed a little while, pet his cat, and thought about how he wanted this day to play out. Before Aaron Valentine had shown up, he’d planned on walking down to the tiny village beside the lake to find his best friend, Angie. He imagined the shock on her face when she saw him for the first time this year (minus the few envelopes of photos he’d sent her a few months earlier). He imagined her running to hug him. The way her springy dark curls bounced around her ears and how the gap between her teeth looked extra big when she smiled. Her mother’s shouting would follow—a flurry of Spanish curse words maybe. Because Angie was probably supposed to be working.
Reality curbed his enthusiasm though, and the more June gave in to the need to get up and pee, the more he realized today was not the day to find Angie. Today was the day to…figure out what the hell he was supposed to do about Aaron Valentine crashing his party-for-one.
June settled on breakfast. Breakfast was always a good place to start. He’d walked to the little grocery store, a mile or so from the cabin, yesterday and picked up essentials for the empty old fridge: milk, eggs, bread, some fruit and vegetables and a few different kinds of meats. A bag of fresh flour sat on the counter, a jar full of rice beside it, and there were three shelves worth of non-perishable foods in the pantry to dig through as well.
He started digging. Pulled out the ingredients to make scrambled eggs AND pancakes because honestly, who was going to stop him? He pulled out a stick of butter from the freezer and set it in a small glass bowl to defrost in the microwave, then got to work on cracking eggs.
June liked to cook. Liked that it was fairly easy but kept his brain and hands occupied at the same time. Kind of like doing art. He’d poked and prodded with the old radio hanging below one of the kitchen cabinets until he managed to find a station, and then found himself humming along as he mixed the batter. The smell of pancakes and hot syrup made him think of his mom. A fluffy and comforting thought. Although he batted it away before it grew into something more along the lines of guilt.
About the same time the bathroom door from the hallway shut, he remembered he wasn't alone, and he wasn't actually making breakfast because he planned on eating this much food himself. June flipped a pancake over and waited, back turned to the living space and hallway, thinking about what had happened last night.
He’d let a stranger into this place alone with him. Allowed him to sleep in a room with a door that didn't even have a lock on it. For a moment, he wasn't sure what he had been thinking, but then the shuffle of feet brought him back. He glanced around.
Aaron.
Yeah, Aaron looked completely different in the daylight.
June blinked once or twice at the disheveled boy, trying to come up with a sentence that wasn't sassy or too teasing because he didn't know Aaron. And June wasn't exactly soft around the edges when it came to things like a civil conversation. Hence the big breakfast. A better way to show he was trying to be friendly.
What ended up coming out of his mouth, despite his better judgment was, “How old are you?” Because not only did Aaron look disheveled, he looked all around softer and
…younger than he had last night.
Aaron grunted back, scrubbed the sleepiness out of his eyes and paused. He looked a little confused. “Nineteen…why?”
June hummed. Aaron was a year older than him, but he did have a bit of a baby face.
“I'm eighteen.”
Aaron pulled out one of the old kitchen chairs and carefully sat, his eyes wide. There was a little bit of hunger and a little bit of caution there. June turned his back to Aaron and busied himself at the stove.
“I’m making breakfast,” he spoke again, to fill the silence. “Pancakes and eggs. Cause I didn't know what you liked or…whatever.”
“You…don't have to do that.” Aaron sounded quiet and gentle despite the fact June could practically hear his stomach snarl from where he sat.
“I figured I owed you one…you know the whole bat thing was a little unnecessary.” June took the last pancake out of the pan and placed it on the top of the stack. It wobbled when he grabbed it and lifted it to the kitchen table. He hadn’t expected Aaron to agree with him and certainly hadn’t expected the other boy to laugh.
It took him by surprise—the clear and musical sound. Aaron smiled, eyes crinkling a little at the tops of his cheeks. And that goddamn hair in disarray; too boyish for his own good. There was a glimmer of contentment in his eyes. It made June uneasy. Made him chew the inside of his lip.
“Yeah…well, I mean it could have been worse. You could have actually hit me with it,” Aaron allowed.
June nodded, turned to a drawer, and grabbed forks, then to the pantry to get a few ceramic dishes. He’d never actually considered hitting Aaron…at least when he thought about what had gone through his mind at that moment. It didn't seem like he had. Either way, he wasn’t nearly as sorry for the gesture as he would have been if he had taken a swing.
“I’m the only one here…gotta protect myself I guess.” He shrugged, placed tableware down in the center of the oak table, and sat in the same spot he had last night.
Aaron hummed in agreement, and June assumed if the situation were reversed, he would have done the same. Aaron didn't seem to blame him for the incident, which made June feel like they were getting off on the right foot.
He started first, perhaps because Aaron still looked a little baffled by the whole idea of breakfast and because there was always a possibility Aaron didn't trust him. June made a show of taking two pancakes and a scoop of eggs before shoveling in a large mouthful. He chewed thoughtfully, had a fleeting moment of what his mother might be doing right now—not cooking breakfast because of the time difference—and then pointed at the plate untouched in front of Aaron.
“I’m serious, Aaron.” June hummed, the name sounded odd and unfamiliar on his tongue. “You can eat as much as you want.”
The pair of forest green eyes looking carefully at him blinked once or twice before he dropped his gaze. It might have been out of embarrassment or just that he was overwhelmed by the gesture. Either way, Aaron pulled food onto his plate, and a pleasant silence ensued. June watched with one eye as he ate. Watched the way Aaron held his fork. The way he seemed to relax after each bite, obviously enjoying it. Aaron made it through about half of his plate before he finally stopped and risked a glance at June.
“I can’t cook at all, and this is really good.” The small tip of pink tongue swiped against his bottom lip. “A-
And I barely ate anything yesterday, so…thanks.”
June pursed his lips, holding back the beginning of a smile. He was about to open his mouth to say something potentially cocky about himself when a familiar noise drew his attention toward the hallway. Aaron whirled around.
Quail stood, pressed low to the ground and ears drawn back nervously as he saw the stranger for the first time. His pink nose twitched; grey and white fur ruffled along his spine like he’d just gotten out of the comforters and hadn't bothered to groom himself.
“A cat,” Aaron said. Not quite a question but certainly confused. He turned back to June. “I didn’t bring a cat.”
This time June did smile; snorted a laugh and rolled his eyes and stabbed the last piece of pancake on his plate before saying, “Yeah, I did, though.”
Aaron turned in his chair, this time with his whole body toward the hallway. His eyes were no longer sleepy but more curious and excited. Unfortunately, the sudden scrape of linoleum sent the grey animal running back in the direction he had come.
“He’s a big chicken.” June sniffed.
“What’s his name?”
“Quail.”
There was a moment of thought and then light-hearted judgment. “Who names their cat, Quail?”
Had Aaron’s voice been anything less than friendly, June would have uttered something along the lines of your mom and been done with the whole exchange. The small voice in the back of his head, however, insisted this was not the time or the place to be immature. He was also surprised by the amount of morning light filtering through the small glass window over the sink, falling on Aaron’s face and painting him in golden fucking angelic light. He was too polite for nineteen. The way he spoke, the way he sat in the chair and the way he ate quietly. Mouth closed and breathing so softly it was almost inaudible.
June realized with mild distaste that all of his shithead teenager instincts told him to be mean to Aaron. With his open grey button-up shirt and a slightly wrinkled white tee underneath. His fluffy bedhead and delicate scarred jaw. He was so soft. Aaron was exactly the kind of person June liked to pick on. The butt of the joke. A prep? Maybe a band geek? He probably didn't quite identify with either. Not a nerd, definitely not a jock, but something stranded in between. Pleasant, nonetheless.
June had been so hung up on his observation he hadn't bothered to answer Aaron’s comment about his cat. He’d been busy badgering himself for not realizing just what it was about Aaron that got him all twisted in a knot. He of all goddamn people should have noticed.
And although the wrong part of June’s brain wanted to blurt out the obvious truth, he bit down hard on his tongue, stopping the train of thought before it could go any further. What he wanted to say may or may not be taken kindly.
What June ended up saying—only because it was the closest thing to what he actually wanted to say—were the two little words, “I’m gay.”
And June said it because he didn't want to destroy the fragile moment of peace he’d created this morning, but his brain hadn’t quite put the brakes on his train of thought either. Because if he’d blurted out that Aaron was gay—like he’d wanted to—he’d run the risk of instant and unwavering hatred. June didn't want that. Didn't want Aaron to bare his teeth and raise his hackles in defense like he had less than ten hours ago.
Besides, it wasn’t like June had lied. He was, in fact, very gay.
“What the hell does being gay have to do with naming your cat after a bird?” Aaron stabbed a piece of pancake and examined it on the end of his fork. He spoke carefully; his green eyes still smiled just a little. Kind. Friendly. Sweet. And most importantly, not suspicious at all.
June didn't know what he’d expected Aaron to say in response to that fun fact. Being gay was something most eighteen-year-olds wouldn’t be caught dead telling a stranger. June didn't expect Aaron to brush it off as swiftly as he had.
June decided right then and there that Aaron was his new favorite person.
He still kind of wanted to be mean to him, though.
At some point in the early afternoon, it dawned on Aaron that he had no service out here in the mountains. Body flung haphazardly across the small guest bed in the cabin, window open and sunlight pouring in between the leaves of an old maple tree. He stared at his flip-phone screen, watched the little bars in the corner blink back and forth between measly scraps of service. Definitely not enough to make a phone call. Just enough to drain his battery twice as quick as normal though.
What was Aaron waiting for anyway? His job, calling to tell him to please come back because the city of Portland missed his voice over the radio? His mother, hoping he’d made it to the cabin okay and that he was enjoying some peace and quiet? Or his beloved older cousin who highly disapproved of his choice to come here in the first place? Aaron sighed, maybe he had bitten off more than he could chew.
He could leave. It was more than likely a good idea to leave, considering the house was occupied at the moment. He could drive down to the closest town and rent a hotel room and spend his time draped over the side of a much larger bed. His phone would work there too. He could wallow in peace and not worry about the sounds of someone else interrupting his thoughts.
He and June had not brought up the idea of one of them leaving this morning. It seemed a touchy subject after the frustration last night. And despite the friendly breakfast, Aaron didn't think it would go over well. June was—for whatever reason, he had no idea—hell-bent on staying right here. No questions asked and no room to budge. In fact, Aaron was pretty positive June had everything he ever needed in this one cabin. June could probably live here for the rest of his life and be fine. Which was…rather impressive to be honest. June definitely did not have a phone with (or without) signal. And he definitely didn't think there was a better place to spend his time (wallowing).
Maybe June didn't have a good relationship with his family. Was June a transient now, or did he have a job back home waiting for him? How did such an odd, intense personality fit into such a small body? The way his dark blue eyes pierced him in an unwavering stare. Intelligent and analytical and incredibly guarded.
Maybe he has nothing else...
June scared Aaron in the same way one might be scared while turning the handle on a jack-in-the-box. Knowing that whatever was about to jump out was completely harmless—but still anxious because of the anticipation. June was unpredictable.
Aaron decided, with his face down in the dusty sheets, he was probably sizing June up a little more than necessary. He was just a teenager, after all—about the same age as Aaron.
Sometime later after drifting in and out of sleep, Aaron was forced to assess the present situation and the fact that he didn't have the clothes to stay away from home this long. He sighed, pushed himself up from the noisy spring bed, and grabbed the plastic bag of things he’d bought from the convenience store. It wasn’t enough for even one more day. He had no soap or shampoo to shower with.
Aaron found his wallet and checked the time on his dying phone before throwing it somewhere on the other side of the bed. Keys on the nightstand. Hair in a mess. He fixed himself as best he could before opening the bedroom door and stepping out into the hall.
A timid grey and white cat with a darker brush-stroke of fur down its spine leaped away in panic after it almost collided with him. Aaron huffed, watched it escape, and then continued down toward the living room.
June sat on the couch, television turned on, and a twisted pout on his face as he flipped from static to more static.
“Quail is very afraid of me,” Aaron said, more as a greeting than a complaint.
June peeked over the back of the couch at him and blinked. “He’ll get used to you after a little while.”
Something sounded like a promise in those words…but Aaron chose to ignore it. Instead, he thought about how June had made him breakfast as a sort of peace offering a few hours earlier. It was a confident and impressive gesture—just like June’s entire persona.<
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He’d already spent too much time thinking about that, however, so instead of standing there staring at the inky back of June’s head, he shook himself and cleared his throat.
“I’m going to drive to the nearest town to pick up a few things.”
June’s dark blue eyes gazed back at him again, this time a little wider and a little more curious.
“You have a car—that’s right. You can drive into town.”
Of course, he had a car. How else would he have gotten here in the middle of the night?
“I’m coming too!” June turned the T.V. off and chucked the remote much in the same way Aaron had thrown his phone. He uncurled from his spot and hurried toward the kitchen where his shoes lay across the linoleum.
Aaron opened his mouth to say something but found it dry. He clicked his teeth together. Someone had told him once upon a time not to be afraid of strangers, but those words and feelings were neither here nor there. Aaron hadn’t decided that he wasn’t afraid of June yet, but getting to know the boy seemed like a completely different challenge. He was nervous.
Maybe June wasn't going to bring up sharing this cabin again? Maybe June had decided it was fine to share the space with him after all? Regardless, there was a tiny sliver of excitement in those blue eyes, and Aaron couldn't understand why.
“Let me just grab my wallet!” June called as he vanished down the hallway.
“Alright…then.”
Alright.
June sat in the passenger seat of Aaron’s red convertible, top down, hair blowing, and aviators pressed firmly to his face as he breathed in the smell of the forest. Aaron drove an impressive fifty-five miles per hour along the winding roads, a content smile on his face and mouth occasionally opening to sing along to whatever horrific pop-song played. June rolled his eyes, not completely put off but definitely questioning his life choices as they made their way down the mountain.
The Maple Effect Page 3