Page 40 of Ancient History

“I think you’re humblebrag, too,” I said, my hand drifting down his side, sitting at his waist. I unleashed every flirt and charm tactic in my arsenal. “Very humblebrag.”

Red flushed his face. He licked his top lip again. Damn, was it sexy. Nervous energy bounced around in my chest, the pull of Amos as intoxicating as my drink.

“I’m going to get some air.” He excused himself from the festivities.

* * *

Outside,the night air had a haze of smoke from the vapers getting their nicotine fix. Amos walked around the corner where it was quiet. He leaned against the brick facade. A streetlight illuminated his face in silhouette. I took a mental snapshot and committed it to memory.

“Fun night,” I said.

“Yeah.” He didn’t tell me to scram, which was a good sign. “I’m sorry about my friends. I think they were all born without filters.”

“They’re awesome.”

I walked up to him. The closer I got, the more electricity crackled between us. I pictured a Geiger Counter making rapid lines back and forth.

His red lips pouted in thought. I loved watching Amos think, wondering about what new meanings and insights churned through his mind.

“You okay?” I put a hand on his shoulder. More electricity shot through me. He didn’t shrug it off. Another good sign.

“Uh huh.” His eyes were a sea of wonder pulling me into their waves.

“If our high school selves could see us now, huh?”

“What would they say?” he asked pointedly.

“My high school self would be pumped that I was here with you. He wouldn’t be able to get over how cute you are.”

Amos’s head dipped, a flash of red on his cheeks. I took my chance and moved my hand from his shoulder up his neck, massaging the muscles. His skin was as smooth as I remembered, the little hairs at the base of his head prickling the pads of my fingers.

He rolled his head back in bliss. Amos was always a slut for massages. You’d think he worked in construction or something by the way he seemed perpetually sore and in constant need of rubs. He let out a tiny groan that went straight to my dick.

The world around us shut off. Time stopped. We were high school lovers. We were adults. We were everywhere in between, infinite dots connected on the same timeline.

He dipped his head back, leaning deeper into my massage. His eyes fluttered shut, lips puckered as his cheeks flushed with perfect calm. Another soft groan that went straight to my dick.

All the years that we’d been apart weighed on me. I missed him. I missed talking and laughing and cuddling with someone. I could feel it crackling in the air, pounding in my chest.

His eyes slid open, a peaceful buzz turning his gaze glassy.

This was it. One of those moments where you either had to shoot your shot or get off the pot.

And…I got off the pot.

I let my hand drop away, then tucked it into my pocket.

“I’ll see you inside.” I shuffled back into Remix.

12

HUTCH

Idrove home replaying the night over and over in my head. I completely chickened out. I was the guy who made daring line drives down the soccer field to score. Now I couldn’t even work up the nerve to kiss a guy?

Sourwood was quiet. I wound through the streets of downtown, all the shops and restaurants that I’d frequented as a kid. I tried to seek out places where I didn’t have any memories with Amos.

There was Caroline’s, where I shared plates of fries with my soccer teammates. But it was also the place where Amos and I cut class to have a decadent breakfast of pancakes and waffles. He tried to convince me why waffles were superior to a soggy, syrup-drenched stack of pancakes.

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