Page 46 of Sweat

Skidding to a stop a few feet from him, my mind is still tossed, and I end up asking, “Are you drunk?”

“No. Are you?”

“No.”

“Huh.” He nods. “Then why don’t you go back inside and screw your new girlfriend?”

Wincing from the verbal slap, I argue, “I don’t wanna—I was just—I was jealous, okay? And upset.”

Halving the gap between us like he wants to grab my nuts and squeeze until they pop, Rowan seethes, “I told you. I don’t want jack shit to do with your stupid ex.”

“I’m talking about the basement. That chick was all over you, and you were lapping it up. Fucking moaning for her like she was rubbing your dick. How’s that supposed to make me feel?”

The veins in Rowan’s forehead define as fire brews in his dark eyes. “I’m not your boyfriend, Tommy. I’m not a faggot.”

All I can do is blink while my heart cracks deeper than it ever has. It hurts. A palpable pain spreads through every inch ofme, making me want to puke, or cry, or punch his windshield. Instead, all I do is blink and watch the strange work of art that is Rowan Hughes shift before my eyes. His anger sobers to something downright morose as he looks left and right. The whites of his eyes turn pink as he fumbles with his keys like his hands are shaking on their own.

Suddenly, he can’t look me in the eye. He looks off toward the road when he says, “Get in the car.”

Something about this shift in persona aches my heart in a different way, but I can’t quite place it.

He rounds the hood. “Tommy, get in the car. Please.”

I get in the car, and Rowan cranks on the ignition. He drives us two minutes from the house and parks in a little lot behind a Dairy Queen.

When the engine cuts, everything is silent. Rowan stares at the brick wall in front of the windshield for a while before clearing his throat. “You said we could be whatever we want.”

It’s not just that he can’t look at me. It’s that his tone is so unusually quiet, voice breaking a bit on the wordsaid.

Hollowed of any emotion but my ever-present longing, I softly say, “I need to know what that is. You have to tell me how you feel about me.”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

I almost want to laugh, because nothing about Rowan is obvious to me. “I think I’m gay,” I confess, if only to judge his reaction. To save face, I add, “Or, bi. Maybe.”

He stays staring out the windshield, one hand gripping the bottom of his steering wheel while the other picks at the frayed upholstery on the driver’s side armrest. “Well…I won’t tell anyone.”

“I know.” I blink and discover tears in my eyes. Being gay would explain how sensitive I’ve always been. “Is it just sex? Ifit’s just sex, you can tell me. I won’t be scorned or anything like that, but I need to know so I can manage my expectations.”

“I can’t—” He closes his lips, breathing deliberately through his nose as he presses the back of his head into the headrest. “I can’t… I can’t be in a relationship. I need to focus on soccer.”

“You think I’d ever try to come between you and soccer?”

“It’s—” He shuts his lips again. The bottom one plumps as his breaths harden and his eye leaks a tear down his cheek. Voice good and broken, he says, “Can we not talk about this right now? Can we just put a pin in it? Please? I’m sorry I let that girl touch me. It wasn’t like that. Sometimes, I just let people do things. I don’t know why.”

“It’s okay, Row.” I reach over and clamp my hand over his, the one gripping the steering wheel like he’s trying to split it in two. “I overreacted. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I kissed Eve.”

“You should kiss her. You should kiss whoever you want.”

“I only wanna kiss you.”

His lips fold tight together. He doesn’t say anything else, but he turns his head and finally looks at me. The sight of him makes me want to pull him to my chest and never let go. Screw a relationship, screw a five-year plan, screw gay or straight or bi, or whatever. All I want is one more moment with Rowan Hughes. Moment after moment after moment.

“Do you wanna go somewhere?” I ask. “You could sneak me past your roommates. I could crawl in through the window.”

His head shakes again. “I can’t.”

I nod behind us. “We could get some ice cream.”

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