I Wished For You

by Colette Davison

  When he'd finished, Matt placed his plate on the ground beside his chair. His stare snagged on the sky as he sat upright.

  "Wow," he breathed as a shooting star shot across the now dark sky, trailing a tail of light behind it.

  "That's awesome," Seb said. "Hey, aren't you meant to wish on shooting stars or something?"

  Matt stood, watching the sky intently. He'd finished his second can of beer and started on his third before he saw another shooting star.

  "I wish I could find the one," he yelled at the star.

  Anything was worth a shot. Every girl he'd dated had held the promise of being the one, but every relationship had fizzled out within weeks or months. He was getting close to believing he'd permanently be shut in the friend zone by every woman he knew.

  "My turn," Seb said, leaping up to stand beside Matt. "Find me a star."

  "There might not be any more," Connor pointed out.

  A glance over his shoulder told Matt that Connor was still sitting, nursing a can of beer in his cupped hands. With their breath frosting on the air in front of them, Matt and Seb kept a fierce watch on the sky.

  "There," Matt said, pointing towards the far right as a star shot across the darkness.

  "I wish to be happy again," Seb yelled.

  Matt turned to Connor. "It's your turn."

  Connor shook his head.

  "Why not?"

  Connor met Matt's curious stare. "I've already had one wish come true. I figure I'd be pushing my luck to make a second."

  Matt's eyebrows shot up. "Oh? Do we get to know what this wish of yours was?"

  Pink splashed across Connor's nose and cheeks. He looked down, mumbling his answer. "I wished for friends. Someone I could count on. I met the two of you right after."

  Matt's chest clenched. He tried to speak, but his voice stuck fast in his throat.

  "Really?" Seb asked, staring intently at Connor as he sat in the middle chair.

  Connor lifted his eyes again, staring at Seb and then at Matt. "Yeah." He looked to the sky. "I mean… it was probably a coincidence, but I wished for you, and there you were."

  Tears stung Matt's eyes. He ran his hand over them and down his face, sniffing loudly. "Well, fuck, Con…" He wasn't even sure what it was he wanted to say. "I'm glad we met you, too," he managed. "I'm glad we could help you when you needed us."

  "You still do," Connor said softly. "Every day."

  "Okay, shut the fuck up now," Matt said, trying not to cry. He flopped into the third chair. "I'm not nearly drunk enough to be getting this sentimental. More booze!"

  Seb handed him a full can, and together, they sat and watched the occasional light show of falling stars as they drank into the night.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Seb

  Seb felt more relaxed than he had all week. The number of crumpled cans around the base of his camping chair probably had something to do with it. Being with Matt and Connor also helped. And, oddly, being in the middle of a pitch-black campsite was also pretty soothing. Between the lanterns and the stars above, there was enough light for him to see his two friends and make his way to the tent to sleep. But beyond their pale pool of light, he could see nothing. Other than their conversation and laughter, he couldn't hear anything except the occasional creak of tree branches and the babble of the river as the water churned over pebbles.

  "We should do this more often," he announced in a drunken slur, crumpling the can he'd just finished in his hand.

  He contemplated getting another, but he wasn't sure he could stand up at that exact moment in time. His head was swimming, his body felt fuzzy, and he didn't think he could feel his legs. Just to be sure, he leaned forward onto his knees and patted his shins down.

  "What the hell are you doing?" Matt asked. His words drawled together but were just about distinguishable from one another.

  "Just making sure my legs are still there."

  Matt snorted. "How fucking drunk are you?"

  Seb pushed Matt's leg, almost toppling himself into Connor in the process. "About as drunk as you."

  "You're both hopeless," Connor remarked. His voice was distinctly more coherent than theirs; his pile of cans tiny in comparison.

  It wasn't unusual for Connor to be mostly sober. Seb wasn't sure if it was out of habit of being their designated driver or because of his instinct to take care of them both. He shivered, unsure if it was from the cold that was creeping into his bones or the memory of Connor taking care of a mother who didn't even remember his name most days. If he drank more, he'd be less cold. He tried to stand but ended up crashing back into the chair.

  "I don't feel so good," he moaned.

  Matt nudged his feet against the pile of crumpled cans around their chairs. The crunching metallic sound pierced through Seb's consciousness, making him wince.

  "'Cause you're drunk," Matt pointed out. "Oh, we've got a lot of clearing up to do tomorrow."

  "I could get a rubbish bag now," Connor suggested, starting to stand.

  Seb grabbed his hand. "Nope. We'll do it." He let his friend's hand go and pointed up at the sky. "In the morning. When we can see." For no apparent reason, he started to laugh. "You guys are great."

  "That's no big revelation," Matt said.

  "No, no, I mean it," Seb insisted. He grabbed Connor's hand again and then Matt's and hugged them close to his chest. "I don't know what I'd have done without you two." He sniffed as tears congealed in his eyes. He was definitely drunk enough to cry like a baby. "You're always there to pick me up. Both of you."

  Matt squeezed his hand. "That's 'cause you're always there for us, you soppy sod."

  "I mean it," Seb said. "I know I can count on you. Craig—" He hiccupped and then belched loudly, causing his two friends to crack up laughing. "Guys… I'm trying to be serious."

  Matt pretended to zip his lips together. Connor sat upright, putting on a too-serious expression.

  "I thought my life was over when Craig dumped me. But you know what? You're the ones I can rely on."

  Seb pursed his lips as he gazed at Matt, then Connor and back again. Being there, with them, made him feel lighter. He'd known them forever and trusted them with every secret, and that made his failed relationship with Craig pale in comparison. Suddenly, his brain switched from thinking he'd wasted five years with Craig to recounting times he'd spent with Matt and Connor. Whether it was the drink or gratitude or a mixture of both, he wasn't sure, but he knew he couldn't imagine his life without them. They were the best, most constant people in his life by far. Something inside him shifted. Feelings awakened within him like the first signs of new life in spring: small and fragile at first and then growing bigger and stronger. He loved them. His feelings were an unstoppable force of nature; a raging river desperate to rush out of him. He had to tell them.

  "I love you," he whispered, turning his face towards Connor. "I love you both." He looked back to Matt.

  Before he could stop himself, he was leaning forward and pressing his lips against Matt's. There was an instant where he almost pulled away. He certainly expected Matt to. But one second stretched into two, three, then four, and the next, their mouths were moving as one. He felt the scrape of Matt's stubble against his jaw. When Matt's lips parted, he drunkenly took it as an invitation to slip his tongue inside his best friend's mouth. Matt reciprocated, and before Seb knew it, they were tongue wrestling and moaning against each other's mouths.

  He felt Connor try to pull away from his grip, but he tightened his own and squeezed Connor's hand. For whatever reason, he knew he didn't want to lose contact with Connor whilst he was kissing Matt. He wanted to feel close to them both. There were two things that pierced through his drunken haze: Matt was a great kisser—how the hell was he single?—and everything, for those few moments, felt fucking perfect.

  Then it was over, and Matt was blinking at him, his lips glistening with Seb's saliva in the pale glow of the lanterns. Matt opened his mouth to speak, but Seb was turning to Connor before the
words broke free.

  "I love you too," he said, staring into Connor's dark eyes for a brief second before leaning in to kiss him.

  The kiss was wildly different to the one he'd just shared with Matt, much more tentative. He put it down to Connor being closer to sober than drunk. He swiped his tongue leisurely across Connor's soft lips but didn't try to gain entry to his friend's mouth. He let go of Connor's hand so he could cup his cheek in his hand and stroke his jaw with his thumb. He felt Connor shiver beneath him, and then their kiss deepened, becoming almost desperate. By the time they were done, both their chests were heaving as they dragged in the air they'd denied themselves. Connor's eyes were wide, his pupils shrunken pinpoints despite the darkness.

  "Well…" Matt said in an exaggerated tone.

  Seb glanced between them as his heart pounded in his chest. He didn't feel drunk anymore. If anything, he felt more sober than he ever had been. What the fuck had he just done? It wasn't that he regretted kissing either of them or telling them he loved them, because he was pretty sure he did, on some level. But he knew he'd changed things between them, and he wasn't sure it was for the better. So he did the only thing that made sense: he laughed it off.

  "I'm so drunk," he said in the most slurred voice he could muster. "Think I'm gonna…" He pointed to the tent. "Sleep."

  He stood and half walked, half staggered into the tent, pausing briefly to glance back at Matt and Connor. They were motionless. Connor was staring at the ground. Matt was looking straight ahead. A sick feeling settled in the pit of Seb's stomach. If he'd screwed things up between the three of them to the extent that he lost them both, he'd regret it forever.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Connor

  The tent was unbearably light when Connor woke up. He scrunched his eyes up and lay still. When he'd fallen asleep, he'd hoped his jumbled mess of thoughts would sort themselves out. He'd been wrong. He still felt confused and a little afraid about what last night would actually mean for them.

  After Seb had staggered off, he and Matt had barely said two words to each other. It had been awkward. Neither of them had known what to say. They hadn't even looked at each other. In the end, Connor had grabbed his towel, wash bag, and a lantern and had wandered off to the shower and toilet blocks. By the time he'd returned, both his friends had been snoring. Sleep hadn't come to him anywhere near as easily. He hadn't exactly tossed and turned—that was pretty much impossible on the narrow camp bed—but he had lain awake worrying: about what Seb had said, about the kisses, about the silence that had followed. About the feelings he'd repressed for a long time. But after the way he'd kissed Seb, denial was pretty much impossible.

  Outside the tent, he could hear Seb and Matt chatting. Their conversation was light, their voices loud and full of laughter. He heard the clack of beer cans, so guessed they were tidying up. Just by listening to them, he'd never have guessed anything weird or unusual had happened the night before. Had he dreamt it? His fingertips involuntarily crept to his lips. No. Even though he'd brushed his teeth, he could still feel the pressure of Seb's lips seared onto his own. He didn't dare believe it had really meant anything, especially as Seb had kissed Matt with equal passion.

  He felt heat creeping across his face at the memory of watching Seb and Matt kissing. He'd felt an unreasonable pang of jealousy until the moment Seb had squeezed his hand tightly. Then he'd felt heat rising within him. That kiss had looked like far more than a drunken moment between two friends. It had looked… real. And the kiss he and Seb had shared had sure as hell felt real.

  He pressed his hand to his forehead. Even if it had meant something, even if Seb did like him like that, it didn't change the fact that he couldn't get involved with anyone. His brain was a potential ticking time bomb; it wouldn't be fair to lumber anyone with that burden. Jesus. He had to get out of his own arse. It was one drunken kiss—two drunken kisses—they meant nothing. Seb wasn't getting down on one knee to propose to either of them. They were still friends, like they'd always been. And yet… Seb had told them he loved them. He sighed heavily.

  He hadn't expected Seb to utter those words to either him or Matt, let alone to kiss them both. He'd fantasised about it enough times, so when it had happened, he'd been lost to the feel of Seb's skin against his; Seb's lips against his; Seb's fingertips on his face… The scent and taste of beer on his breath, the moist remnants of the kiss he'd shared with Matt only seconds before. In his head, it had been far more than a moment of drunk indiscretion; it had meant something.

  And then Seb had acted like nothing had happened, and Connor had been torn between anger and relief. If either of those kisses had been real, it would change everything between them.

  If those kisses had been real, he knew his heart would want more than friendship. More than he'd ever sought with anyone before. He'd avoided relationships like the plague, and he'd discovered that casual sex didn't appeal to him. A physical attraction to someone wasn't enough of a connection for him to want to jump into bed with anyone, so he never had. Matt called him a commitmentphobe, although the term didn't really describe why he didn't feel like he could be with anyone long term. Or short term for that matter. Short term led to long term. Even single kisses could lead to more if the head and the heart were both willing, so he'd simply never given himself the chance to feel that way about anyone. Even Matt and Seb, who he'd gradually developed stronger feelings for than he could ever let himself admit.

  And why wouldn't he feel more for them than just friendship? They'd seen him at the lowest point in his life. They'd held him up and supported him whilst he juggled caring for his mum and school. They'd helped him pretend everything was okay so he wouldn't get dragged off into foster care, and his mum wouldn't end up in a home with no one she knew. Not that she'd even known him in those last couple of years. Just thinking about the way she'd slowly forgotten him and everyone else left him cold. Remembering how she'd become so confused and forgetful brought tears to his eyes.

  When she'd died, his dad finally turned up again after walking out on them both when she first got sick. He sold the house to pay for the funeral. If there was anything left, Connor never knew, because his father buggered off again as soon as his mum's grave had been filled in. He was sixteen, had piss-poor GCSEs, and no prospects. But Matt and Seb had both got part-time jobs to help him pay rent on a crappy little flat so he didn't end up on the streets. Because of them, he'd been able to get an apprenticeship at a local garage and learned how to be a car mechanic, which meant he could stand on his own two feet. He owed them everything.

  So yeah… it had been easy to fall for them both, but he'd told himself over and over that he was confusing friendship and overwhelming gratitude for something more. Not that it had stopped him wondering what might happen if he dared tell either of them how he truly felt. Even holding the possibility at the edge of his mind made his pulse race, and his insides melt with a heat that left him raw. And now… now… Seb's kisses had brought those feelings to the forefront of his mind. Could Seb feel that way about them? About him? And what would he do if Seb did?

  Run a mile, probably. The fact remained that he had every reason to believe he'd develop early onset dementia, just like his mum had, and he would not, could not, put anyone else through that.

  It wasn't just his own feelings he had to worry about. Matt was straight. If Seb had feelings for Matt and was expressing them by kissing him, it could harm their friendship. He breathed out deeply. They were drunken kisses, nothing more. They meant nothing. But the thought of their friendship fracturing left him cold.

  He shuddered. He hated how his thoughts kept shooting around like a demented pinball. From Seb and Matt and those kisses to his mum to the terrifying possibility of losing his mind in the next ten years or so.

  One thing was certain: he couldn't hide out in the tent for the rest of the weekend. He had to face his best friends. He untangled himself from his sleeping bag and blanket and quickly got changed into clean clothes. When h
e unzipped the tent and stepped outside, there was an uncomfortable beat of silence before Matt grinned at him.

  "Well, look who's finally awake! It's about time you got your lazy ass out of bed. We've finished cleaning up."

  "Thanks." Connor was finding it hard to meet either of their stares. What if they could both see the feelings he'd spent so long hiding, now that they were bubbling under the surface of his consciousness? He shuffled his feet, not wanting to be the one to bring up what had happened, hoping it didn't have to be brought up at all.

  "I was going to make breakfast," Seb said. "I saw you brought porridge. Nice call."

  "Do you want a shower?" Matt asked. "The facilities are actually quite nice."

  "I… uh… had one last night." Connor finally looked up into Matt's warm brown eyes.

  "Oh… cool. I didn't realise. I think I passed out the moment my head hit that air mattress."

  "I bet it's way more comfortable than those stupid camp beds," Seb grumbled. "I'm aching all over." He rolled his shoulders to prove his point. "How did you sleep, Connor?"

  "Fine."

  They weren't going to talk about it. They'd brushed it off as easily as Seb had laughed it off the previous night. Maybe they really had meant nothing. Maybe nothing was going to change, which meant he could go on ignoring his feelings forever. He was fine with that.

  Except there was a palpable tension in the air. It might have simply been the product of Connor's anxiety, but he felt it. All he could think about, as he watched Seb and Matt, were those two kisses. They played over and over in his mind. Two drunken kisses, which simultaneously meant nothing and everything.

  Seb started getting things together to make porridge, whilst Matt collected the rubbish bag and trudged off towards the bins at the top of the campsite. Connor stood still as though he were at the eye of a storm, with Seb and Matt's silent denial forming the violent winds that swirled around him.