As June fell asleep that night, he dreamed of living shadows and deep, ebony water. The forest crawling slowly around the lake. And Aaron, standing elbow deep with a silk blindfold on, waiting for June to come to him. Hand outstretched. Crooked smirk on his handsome face.
At the break of dawn, June snuck out of the cabin, rubbing the sleepiness from his eyes and patting his back pocket to make sure he’d remembered his wallet. In the driveway, Angie waited for him, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed with the tiny radio playing from the inside of her truck cab.
He could not believe he was doing this.
Two days had gone by since Aaron told June their date was on the seventh, and he’d been fussing over it so much he’d dug out every article of clothing he’d brought this summer and stared at them until he felt ill. Several weeks ago, June had flung those same articles of clothing into a suitcase, not giving a shit what they were because he’d only cared about running away from home before his parents had a chance to stop him. It had never crossed his mind that none of those clothes were date appropriate.
And so, frustrated with his lousy board shorts and faded T-shirts, June wound up at Angie’s beck and call, miserably agreeing to go shopping for clothes because if he didn’t, he was going to regret it. His best friend had been elated.
June couldn't say he outright hated shopping. But going with Angie had always proven challenging and disheartening. She made him try on fifteen different things and shook her head at all of them before they made any progress. And when he wanted a soft pretzel from the food court, she would inevitably eat half of it while he wasn’t looking because she was a biznatch.
“Good morning, Sunshine!” she teased, drumming her hands against the steering wheel in excitement.
June sauntered over to the passenger side door and yanked it open. Crawled inside. “Why did we have to do this at six-thirty in the morning?” That was far, far too early to be up and functioning. The mall in town didn’t even open until nine.
“Because it’s going to take an hour to get down the mountain, and I want pancakes,” she chirped, turning the key two times before the truck rumbled to life. June longed for the comfortable, smooth ride of Aaron’s convertible. “And because my mom would make me get up and work if I stayed home any longer.”
“You ditched work for this?” He snorted, rolling his head back against the bench seat and yawning. The aviators sitting atop his head fell over his eyes in the motion.
“You never ask me to go shopping with you!” she insisted. “I had to take advantage of it.”
“Whatever,” June grumped, closing his eyes as the bumpiness of their driveway turned into old pavement.
Had Aaron not recently bought his own new (and really nice) clothes, June would not have felt so obligated to buy his own. He was certain that boy had at least one perfect date outfit; something he would wear with that body spray that drove June crazy. The idea of being left flabbergasted while wearing ultra-casual summer wear haunted him. He’d never live it down. He didn't want to remember this as the date where he’d been severely underdressed.
June had only been on a handful of dates in his life. Once with a girl, his freshman year of high school when he had not yet come out to anyone beside Angie and his family. He was trying to convince some peers he was straight. The date had gone horrendously wrong, and in the end, he had spray-painted his own locker with the words YES I AM A FAG for everyone to see. It had been the first time he grasped ownership for his sexuality and the first time in North Carolina history that a quarter black, quarter white, and half Asian kid had ever outed himself.
The second time he went on a date was with a fearful closeted guy that liked to wear flannels and smoke cigarettes behind the gym. June had been curious to know what being with another guy was like, but when the tables turned on him, he’d run for the hills. Being sixteen and randy, but also stubborn and paranoid was a bad combination. Very bad. Luckily nothing ever came of that one.
The last and final date June had ever been on was a double date with his sister, July. She’d wanted to go out with this popular kid so badly she vowed to do June’s chores for the rest of the month if he’d set her up. And the only way the guy agreed to do it was if June came with them. It turned out Mr. Popular wasn’t so straight himself, and June spent the majority of that night dodging sultry, brown eyes and comforting July in a Sonic bathroom. She’d never done his chores, and he didn't blame her.
It was hard being gay sometimes. Especially in small towns. Maybe that was part of why June was so freaked out with the idea of going on a date with Aaron. The backlog of shitty experiences made it hard to take another chance.
But then again, Aaron wasn’t from small-town North Carolina. Aaron was from Portland, a trendy, progressive college town. A metropolis even. Things were probably a lot more well-rounded and open there.
“So, what kind of date clothes do you wanna buy?” Angie asked after the neighborhood roads turned into curving highway.
June lifted his head and blinked at her dashboard. Several sun-faded Beanie Babies sat together beneath the windshield. “I don’t know.” He folded his arms over his chest. “You’re the one who actually knows what we’re doing.”
Angie had refused to tell him where Aaron was taking him, but that didn't mean he had to be happy about it.
Angie bounced her knee in excitement. “I know! I can’t believe he told me.”
“Ugh.”
“It’s okay, June. It’s honestly so, so okay.” She waved him off. “I know exactly what you should wear, so this is gonna be a breeze.”
That made him even more nervous. Angie was notoriously good at picking out her clothes, but she had different taste when it came to men’s. She liked guys who wore beachy things; like tank tops with stripes and floral prints. Khaki cargo shorts with cloth belts sewn into them. Bare feet and excessive amounts of hemp. All things that might be fine when you spent most of your time living around a lake, but things June could not picture himself in whatsoever.
It was going to be a long day.
Four stores and half a soft pretzel later, June finally put his foot down and insisted they go into Hot Topic. It was the only store emanating the color black for as far as the eye could see, so he assumed there would be something worthwhile in there. Angie had been okay with that—she said she wanted new bellybutton rings anyway.
June stared at himself in the skinny dressing room mirror, trying to back up as much as he could without stepping on Angie, who had shamelessly followed him in. He wore a pair of tight, black jeans with rips in them. The kind of jeans his father would say he picked out of the women's section.
June turned this way and that, shifting them up and down his hips until they sat just right. He glanced at Angie, daring her to object.
“They’re perfect,” she agreed, eyes twinkling. “Your ass looks like Jesus sculpted it out of marble.”
He snorted, secretly relieved she approved of something he also thought looked good. They might be a little on the casual side, but with the right shirt and accessories, he would look like date material. With renewed energy, he peeled off the lame grey T-shirt he wore and threw it in her lap.
“Hand me the red one.”
She grimaced, chucked his shirt to the floor, and fumbled through the other things hanging on the hook behind her. “What about the blue one?”
“It’s the same exact shirt as the red!”
“It’ll bring out your eyes though!” She tugged it off the hanger and handed it to him.
“Fine.” He pulled the material over his head and let it fall down his torso. Adjusted it over the jeans. He didn’t mind it was a tank top, but it was a little baggy. The armholes revealed the stark, pale scar running under his armpit; and while he wasn’t particularly worried about people seeing that scar (Aaron had seen it plenty of times.), it did make the size of the shirt more obvious.
“Too big,” Angie echoed his thoughts.
He took it off and hung it b
ack up. “I want the red one, in a size smaller.”
“I’ll go exchange it for you.” She nodded. “Blue one, smaller size.”
“Red!” He gave her a playful shove as she dipped out of the room.
Without Angie sitting on the seat behind him, June took a good long look at his body. Stretched his legs out and rolled his shoulders back. Cracked his neck this way and that until he felt loose and relaxed. He shook out his hands as if they were numb, took a deep breath, and looked up at the dim light fixtures in the ceiling.
He shouldn’t be so worried. Aaron had seen him at his absolute worst already. Bruised and battered and exhausted. He’d seen June damp and reeking of sweat. He’d even seen June climb through a window trying to attack him. Those were all things that should turn a guy off, so June shouldn’t have to worry about what might turn him on. So far, it had been coming quite naturally.
June considered himself at least mildly good looking. He had clear, rich skin and soft features. Dark hair and eyelashes, neat lips—not too big or too small. Nothing particularly weird stood out about him, and Aaron had never been with a guy before, so how would he know if he even had a type? There was nothing to compare June to.
Angie returned with the red (and another blue) shirt like he'd asked for, and planted herself back in the seat to observe.
“You think I’m hot, right?” June asked quietly. His chest wasn’t exactly broad, but he had nice strong shoulders and lean arms. His waist and stomach were a flat plain with delicate lines.
“What kind of dumb question is that?” Angie kicked him lightly in the calf. “You’re actually worried?”
June poked at the scar running under his pectoral. “Not really. But Aaron is…you know he’s like really…”
“Sexy?”
“I was gonna say sort of cute, but, thank you. Thank you for the clarity.”
She crossed one long leg over the other, folded her hands in her lap, and rolled her eyes. “Alright, look. Most people around the lake know you're gay, right? So, you probably don’t get a whole lot of attention...”
“Not helping.”
“But I promise you, June, you are plenty hot enough to go out with a guy like Aaron. Now let’s see the blue!”
“I’m not choosing the blue!” He snatched the red one from her and fumbled with it. Pulled it over his head and down his body. It was significantly smaller than the first one, stopping just at his waist. “Dammit.” He couldn't win. This day would never end.
Angie cackled, tilting her head back and smacking a palm to her forehead. “R-Raise your arms!”
He did as told and groaned at the strip of bare stomach showing. A shirt that didn't fit was hardly attractive. He looked like he shopped in the kid’s section.
“How can I be stuck right in the middle of small and medium?”
“At least you’ve got the pants.” Angie grinned. “We’ll just have to keep looking.”
She was having far, far too much fun.
By the hottest part of the day, June had picked out two different outfits, a set of wrist bands (one with black and white checkers, one rainbowed) and a cologne he hoped would compete with Aaron's. Angie surprised him by paying for all of it. She said she owed him for the help in the shop the other day, although, he had a feeling she was trying to make up for having a much more fun time than he did. Either way, June was grateful. With limited money for this summer, it was only a matter of time before things got tight.
He snoozed almost the entire drive back up the mountain, slumped against Angie’s side and warmed by the grueling, relentless California sun.
The fourth of July was, by all means, one of the busiest days of the year. With families off from work and kids out of school, the lake was full of life. People with colorful umbrellas and water toys sprawled out along the drier areas of the shore. Lounging around, drinking wine coolers and spreading sunscreen on each other. The smell of charcoal barbeque hung around every corner and every bend; a different dad each time with his best recipe, frying something on an old grill.
The deep green water was alive with activity too. Jet skis and speedboats skipped along each other’s wakes. Every now and again, a bright red flag would go up in the air, and your eyes would find the gasping victim that had been thrown haphazardly from a tube. The victim would scramble back to their laughing group of friends so other boats could continue in chaos.
Typically, at this time of year, boat rentals were impossible to snag on short notice. And so, when Angie surprised the three other teens with a receipt and a devious smirk, June had lifted her up and swung her around in delight.
As it turns out, Ms. Delgado had arranged the rental back in early May as part of Angie’s graduation present, and as much as she so obviously wanted to go with them, she said it was time for Angie to put her boating license to good use.
She wore a bright blue bikini top and red shorts sat in the captain's chair of a shiny speedboat. She wore her hair back in two tight braids and had lip gloss that reflected the glare of the sun, smeared over her mouth. Occasionally, she leaned over the side of the boat and talked to a familiar face walking along the dock.
Charlie was also there, wearing much more clothing and a baseball cap that shielded most of his face. It made his wild curls stick out in all directions around his ears and neck. When he overheard the dock boys flirting with Angie, he deflated; laid down on the squeaky bench seat and pouted like a moron with a towel over his head.
Aaron stood at the nose of the boat, rubbing sunscreen into his biceps and chest and singing quietly along to the song on the boat’s stereo (Almost by Bowling for Soup). He looked surprisingly tan for the first time since he’d gotten here, although his skin was not exactly a golden tone—more tawny. June watched him blatantly, too genuinely pleased with the events of today to give a shit if anyone saw or not.
Aaron was delicious. Long torso and broad shoulders, the squared shape of his jaw so much tighter than June’s was. He had honey-colored hair, tousled from the breeze, and when he peeked up from under his long lashes, his eyes were emerald in the sun. June’s stomach gave a weak flutter.
“Can you get my back?” Aaron held out the bottle of sunscreen.
Normally, June would have had something snarky or teasing to say about rubbing another man down with lotion, but it was stuck in his throat when he realized how badly he wanted to do just that. He stood next to Aaron, uncapped the bottle and started with a small amount on the tips of his fingers.
Fuck his back is nice. June stalled, wondering where to start. At the small of Aaron’s back there were two dimples; as if someone had grabbed him by the hips, pressed the pads of their thumbs there, leaving careful indents. He could start there…where his skin would be extra-sensitive to the cold.
Nervous and unwilling to admit how attractive Aaron was, June opened his big fat mouth, “Where should I start?”
Aaron’s humming stopped, and he glanced over his shoulder—one pretty eye seen in profile. June had to look away.
“Wherever you want.” The teen almost laughed, and his voice was high. Maybe he was nervous too?
June’s attention turned back to the pair of strong shoulder blades in front of him. There was a bead of sweat rolling from the nape of Aaron’s neck down between them, taunting him. And maybe it was the heat of the sun, but June’s throat went dry. Ideas and images sprang to life in his brain like frogs from the marshy grass.
He peeked around, made sure no one was watching him, and then leaned up on his toes to lick the bead of sweat straight off Aaron Valentine’s skin. Quick flick of the tongue, and maybe, just maybe a teensy bit of lingering that could be mistaken as a kiss. Aaron jolted, quiet gasp tripping into his lungs and catching there. When his face returned in profile, he exhaled. Shaky. His cheeks bloomed so red they looked sunburnt.
June stared at him hard, the taste of salt present and distinct on his lips.
“Not a word,” he whispered, although Aaron looked speechless anyway.
The press of sunscreen to heated skin did little to cool the temperature surging between them, and so the moment June finished he took a leap off the boat and into the water.
The boys working the dock yelled at him—something about a no-swimming zone. But he couldn’t care less.
None of them were particularly talented at wakeboarding. Even June who had proven coordinated at a lot of things wound up coughing up lake water between laughing and moaning in pain.
Aaron had never tried it before, but it wasn’t the sort of thing that made him nervous. He’d been snowboarding several times with his cousin, so having his feet strapped to a heavy object wasn’t exactly new. The water was. The initial yank of the rope was, as well as the strength it took to pull yourself upright.
It took him three tries to figure it out, but once he did, he found balance and motion was on his side. Angie drove the boat relentlessly, weaving it in and out of the waves and trying her hardest to dislodge him. It took well over a minute for him to wipe out entirely.
The initial slap of water followed by the force of gravity dragging him under was severe. The push and pull of waves tossing him around disorienting. When he surfaced, nose burning and heart thumping rapidly in his chest, he fought for air. The blue sky overhead spun. White spots popped like fireworks in his field of vision for a moment. There was the distinct, horrific feeling of a cramp piercing his side.
Once he could see straight, a small white inner-tube nearly smacked him in the face. Aaron clutched it gratefully, shifting around so he could hold his head and legs up as he was tugged inward. His muscles ached.
“HEY! THAT’S OURS!” June’s voice yelled, somewhere far off.
The Maple Effect Page 21