Page 66 of Sweet T

“Busy night?” Pedro asked.

“Yeah,” said Tucker. “Very. One of our best.”

“That’s great.” Pedro looked at Evan. “How did you like it?”

“It was fun. A lot of nice people.”

“Sebastian locked onto him,” Tucker said. “Evan’s going to be in the play.”

“Wonderful.” Pedro smiled.

Titus, already en route to the main house, turned. “He’s doing a Shakespeare this time, isn’t he?”

“Yes, sir,” Evan said, addressing them both. “King Lear.”

“Congratulations,” Titus said. “We’ll be there opening night.”

Normally, Evan would be thrilled to hear this, but something about Titus made him a little nervous. He didn’t seem the theatre type at all. “Sebastian brings much-needed culture to our little town,” Titus continued, as if reading Evan’s thoughts. “We like to support him any way we can.”

“And I like Shakespeare.” Pedro gave Evan a private wink. “So, I’ll interpret for him.”

“And please don’t call me sir.” Titus took Pedro’s hand, continuing toward the main house. “Makes me feel old.”

“We’re not old, sweetheart. Haven’t you heard? Forty-three is the new twenty-eight.”

“Yeah? Tell that to my back. You boys have good night.”

When they were out of earshot, Evan said, “Your parents make a really cute couple.”

“Yeah? Thanks. I’m used to them, but it’s good to hear from someone else.”

Evan lifted the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head.

“Uh.” Tucker pointed toward the house. “I’m gonna go put on my swimsuit. You want me to bring yours out?”

Evan was already working on the button of his jeans. “Just a towel, please. If it’s just us, I won’t need—”

He looked up before finishing the sentence. Tucker’s face was ghost-white in the pool’s wavering light.

“Oh,” Evan said. “Come to think of it. I want something to drink. I’ll just come in with you and change.”

* * *

They returned a few minutes later, Tucker in knee-length plaid trunks and Evan wearing the shorter red swimsuit Pedro had loaned him. Tucker had poured them a couple beers into large plastic tumblers and they made their way to the steps at the shallow end of the pool. Evan set his cup down at the rim, descending into the water.

“Oh, man. This is great. The water’s perfect.” He swam out a little ways and turned. Tucker was still standing there at the pool’s edge, holding his cup. “Come on. What are you waiting for?”

Tucker set his cup down and tentatively lifted his t-shirt over his head. He’s shy, Evan thought, remembering that in all the time they’d spent together, he’d yet to see Tucker sans anything more than socks. Tucker let the shirt fall to the concrete and stepped into the water.

Gorgeous. Evan thought. Even in the ridiculously over-sized trunks, Tucker was huge, barrel-chested like his father, smooth and round. He had massive shoulders and tree trunks for legs. Evan remembered nights before, when he had first opened his eyes in the hospital, how he’d thought he’d seen an angel. He was thinking the same again.

Tucker moved deeper into the pool. “It’s kinda hot,” he said, referring to the water’s temperature.

“I’ll say.”

Tucker’s eyes cut to Evan, who gave a tiny smile, then quickly dove underwater.

They swam for a while, getting acclimated to their surroundings and removing any residual tavern odors from their bodies. Evan made for the steps first, sitting midway, so his chest and shoulders were exposed to the warm night air.

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